Heaven Help Me
by Alexander-In-Autumn
Summary: Bella needed a friend. What she got was a hot gaurdian angel named Edward, who's determined to make her happy. How long will he stay on Earth to complete his job? Evil Mike, sweet Edward, shy Gothic Bella.
1. Oh My God

I walked down the hall way to gym class, my combat boots thudding against the linoleum. Everyone cleared the way for me, as if I had a radioactive aura. Nobody wanted to get close enough to me to obtain the horrible "Goth cooties" as my arch nemesis had put it.

I am you're average girl. I have brown hair, brown eyes, pale skin and a heart beat. Nothing made me any different from the rest of my classmates in Forks, Washington. Nothing at all. I was the queen of normal. . . .well, that's a bit of a lie. There was something that made me different from everyone here. Something I considered that made the town seem less dull.

I was a Goth. The only one in the whole school, actually. Lonely? Heck yeah. My fault? Heck no. Whose fault was it? Mike Newton; scum of the Earth. His occupation? To make my life a living Hell.

My personal goal to get him back for all the things he's done to me? Maul him in dodge ball today.

As if getting hit in the head was all he deserved from me. The thought made me want to roll my eyes so badly. He deserved so much more then physical pain.

He deserved to have his heart ripped out, just like he had damaged mine.

It had been less then three months ago when I had moved here. My mother had died in her sleep due to heart failure, and I was sent here to live with my father, Charlie, who was never around. He was currently in Tokyo, doing business with the company he worked for, and leaving me alone to stand on my own two feet.

All the people of Forks believed me to be a spawn of Satan himself; all because I dressed differently. And the only reason I dressed differently was because I was at war. With the town's people, with my own grieving for my mother, and most of all, I was at war with God. He didn't have a right to take away good people like my mom. She had been everything to me. My mother, my playmate, and all the colors of the rainbow.

When she died, the colors faded into black. And that's all I wore. Black and gray and only the bare necessity shades.

Not the most intelligent reason to become a fan of the darkness, but oh well. This was a way to cope for me.

Mike made things so hard for me. the entire town knew about my mother and who I was, for some reason. And he just felt the need to mention her death to me every chance he got. And he also made time to comment on my "scary wardrobe". Did it really matter what I dressed like?

To the microscopic town of Forks, it did. Didn't enjoy American Eagle? Congratulations, you're now an outcast! Drive anything older then the year 2002? You have been awarded the title of odd ball! Thought cheerleading and football was just a way to spread the idea that people who did those sports were the top of the line, and should be stopped? Ding ding ding! We have a total loser! Other wise known as . . . me. Bella Swan.

I snuck past the other girls changing in the locker room and stood in my usual corner. I slid my Emily Strange sweater over my head, revealing my black and deep purple, high collared corset with fish net sleeves. I heard some one snicker behind me.

Without looking I could tell who it was. Jessica Stanley. Co-torturer of me. in cahoots with her boyfriend, the vile Mike Newton. I'd know her snotty whiney anywhere. Her laugh reminded me of Mr. Ed, the magical talking horse. I wished I could send Jessica to the glue factory instead of the animal. She deserved it more.

"What the Hell do you think you're wearing?" she sneered. I made a point of ignoring her, my back still turned.

"Hello? Are you listening to me?" I remained silent, unbuttoning my shirt and sliding off the fish nets.

"Hey! I'm freaking talking to you!" I slipped off my black Victorian skirt and dumped my clothes to the side of my gym bag, still not acknowledging her.

I heard an exasperated huff from behind me. "You aren't, like, ignoring me, are you? Nobody can, like, ignore me!"

"Of course not; we can't drown you out," I muttered so she wouldn't hear. I pulled on my black shorts over my pale legs.

"Stop ignoring me! I, like, totally rule over you!" Jessica was fuming.

I froze in disbelief. She didn't just say that? Geez, she really had no life.

I tugged on my black, snug-fitting Cradle of Filth tee shirt. "Turn around when I'm talking to you!"

All of a sudden, I was pushed forcefully from behind. Of course, being the klutz I was, I lost my balance and fell forehead first onto the edge of the hard stone bench. Pain shot through me at light speed, and I knew my expression was twisted in agony. Oh dear Lord! Wow . . . that was more painful then I thought it would be.

I heard Jessica laugh, and she was joined in by another. I groaned, and it had nothing to do with my forehead.

Lauren Mallory. Awh crap . . . today just wasn't my day. Jessica's hench-woman was here to share my agony.

"Good one, girlfriend!" I heard a cackle, a horse laugh and then a slap sound. I had seen that motion enough to know they just slapped high fives.

I slowly picked myself up, grimacing. I stumbled over to the mirror to inspect the damage.

A little drip of blood was coming from the middle of my head, a dark purple bruise already there. That was certainly unattractive. But then again, I was always a bit on the plain side. At least my black eye shadow and lipstick was intact.

"Up so soon?" Lauren was by my side in an instant, and pushed me down again. My elbows made contact with the stone floor. Why is it there was so many stone things in this locker room . . . .?

I winced at the pain again. I must have a target on me or something, because these girls never took a break.

But this time I got onto my feet and balled my hands into fists. "What the heck is your problem?" I asked them.

"_Our_ problem?" Jessica was gawking at me as if she was bewildered by what I said. "We're not the freaks here!"

"I'm not the one pushing people down! I'm not the one who thinks I'm queen of the universe!"

"But you're still the freak."

I glared at her, my eyes stinging. Oh no . . . _please, don't betray me, eyes! Please don't cry Bella! _

"Look," Lauren pointed at me, stabbing me with her French tipped nail, drawing blood as she scratched me deliberately. "She's crying! Little baby Bella is crying! Awh!"

Jessica and Lauren laughed louder. That's when I snapped. I focused on Jessica's nose and wound my fist back, making sure to tuck in my thumb like in the movies. And then I punched her so hard I heard a pop sound come from her nose.

She was on the ground screaming in no time at all. Lauren was starting to get hysterical. "You freak! Look what you've done to her!"

"I know!" I said excitedly. "I think I broke her nose! Isn't that awesome, the way the blood is pouring like that?"

Of course, I meant it as a joke, but Lauren and Jessica weren't smart enough to know that. Lauren's eyes rolled to the back of her head, and she slumped to the floor, and Jessica stopped squirming.

They both simultaneously fainted. It seemed as if this was totally choreographed, except the funny part was that it wasn't.

I noticed that everyone had left the locker room already. Gym had already started. I left Jessica and Lauren on the floor and quickly ran out to get hassled by Coach Clapp.

Just as I suspected, Coach Clapp chewed me out for awhile about being late. "What do you have to say about this? What's the excuse this time?"

"I was taking out the trash," I said truthfully. Just not in the way he'd expect. . . .

He rolled his eyes. "Just pick a team and grab a dodge ball."

I did so, picking the largest one out of the bin. My team looked grateful they had me on their side; they knew dodge ball was my game. As the game began, I zeroed in on the one person who I wanted to harm the most. I couldn't see him. I craned my neck and squinted my eyes in an attempt to spot Mike's spiky blond head. He was gone.

The next second I knew, I was on the ground again, except instead of getting pushed, I was hit with a dodge ball in the square of my back. The side of my face made contact with the hard wooden floors. OW!! My face hurt again!

"Never turn you're back to the enemy, Creepy."

So that's where he was. Behind me all along.

I jumped to my feet and glared at him. he had a lot of nerve doing a sneak attack like that. "Mike, get a life."

He frowned. "Now, now, I'll have none of that from you! no wonder your mom bit the dust; she was trying to escape your temper."

I grit my teeth. Murder was the only thing I was thinking; my palms tingled with the very need to smack him and cause him pain. And this was coming from someone who considered herself to be a pacifist.

"Mention my mother again. _I dare you_," I growled softly. His eyes widened and then tightened.

"Your mother deserved to die! She gave birth to a nobody like you!" He watched me, wondering what I was going to do. When I didn't do anything right away, he laughed nastily and turned away.

I tackled him to the ground and punched his lights out in less then a second. "never turn your back to the enemy, Mike," I returned his words, smirking.

Coach Clapp pulled me off of Mike. "Principal's office. Now."

"Yeah, sure," I gave him an innocent look and skipped off to get my stuff from the locker room. Jessica and Lauren were still out of it.

I whistled to myself as I ran out of the building. Principal's office? Yeah, right! Like I was going to do that anytime soon!

My red truck was in the parking lot, flaunting itself off around the cream colored Hummers and vans. It was like a beacon signal for me, and I dashed towards it. And slipped of course. Right into the bed of flowers at the side of the building.

I spat out the mouthful of dirt and brushed the rest off my clothes. Curse my clumsiness. I managed to make the rest of the way to my truck without further incidents occurring.

I pulled out of my spot and drove off at the slow speed my truck enforced. I popped in my CD by Harry and the Potters (yes, I like wizard rock, don't you dare say a word) and began the long drive to the empty house in the forest.

Charlie just had to buy the house farthest away from civilization, didn't he? Sure, I didn't have any friends, but that didn't mean I wanted to be kept in the middle of the forest with no one in a 5 mile radius.

The sky was getting darker and started to rain. Not that I was expecting Malibu sunshine in Forks, but I didn't want it to rain just yet. Not until I got inside my house at least. But I could get over that; it wasn't very important.

Green trees past by in a blur because the rain was coming down harder. I had no idea that rain could be so fast; it took less then three minutes to pour down furiously! It was a good thing that I had gotten in the car when I did, I guess.

The sky was lit up with an enormous flash of lightning, causing me to be temporarily blinded. I slowed down to a stop in order to stop the colors from running rampant under my eyelids.

My hand gripped my locket possessively as I closed my eyes. The cold metal calmed me down. But also . . . it brought back memories of my mother. She had given this locket to me the day before she had died. I remembered it clearly. . . .

"_Bella! Come here, sweetie!" My mom waved me over to her side at the picnic table. I rushed over to her, anticipating a cheese sandwich and berry juice. And apple cobbler. Goodness, my mother's cobbler was amazing. _

"_Yeah, Mom?" I sat down next to her on the wooden bench. _

"_I have something for you," she said, hiding something behind her back. "Guess what it is!"_

"_Lunch?"_

"_Nope."_

_I thought for a while. "A bug?" I wrinkled my nose. I wouldn't put it past my mother to do something totally gross. _

"_No, silly girl! A locket!" She pulled out a silver oval locket, dangling from an intricate delicate silver chain._

"_Thanks, Mom!" I giggled and slipped it over my head and around my neck. It fit perfectly. _

"_No problem, sweetie." She slipped her arms around me, hugging me close. "My mom gave it to me and so on. And do you know what she told me?"_

"_No, what?"_

"_She told me that this locket had been placed under a charm by a witch long ago," my mother began, getting animated. Oh, boy. This was going to get interesting. I snuggled closer, anticipating a good fairy tale. "The witch wanted to help out her little sister, who had no magical powers. The entire family did, and the little sister was the black sheep of the family; the normal one. Or in their case, the abnormal one."_

_I laughed. "They had a pretty screwy sense of the word normal."_

"_Magical powers were all they knew. Now be quiet and let me finish."_

_I pouted but obliged._

"_The witch made the locket and dipped it in a potion that wasn't labeled. She was pretty sure it meant 'good health'. It wasn't until it was around her sister's neck did she realize what it was; a binding potion. Whenever her sister wanted something, desperately needed something, the older sister had no choice but to help her out. Now, the younger sister respected her older sister's position. It was a real pain to do something against their own will to help someone out. So they came to an agreement. The older sister would only come when the younger sister said the magic words."_

"_What were they?" I asked._

"_They had to be the most heartfelt words that she could muster. It is supposed to change from girl to girl. And this locket is the same necklace in the story. Or so said my mother. Anyway, all the women in my side of the family handed this down. So we could all be binded, connected. So we could all help each other when the time came."_

"_So if I'm in trouble or need you, all I have to do is use this locket to get you?" I asked, skeptical. _

_She laughed. "Not really. But I'll be able to send help. Because we're binded, Bella! Forever!" she hugged me closer and laughed._

"_I love you, Mom," I said, laughing along with her._

"I love you, Mom," I whispered in the dark car. My fingers tightened around the necklace. The cold hard metal was starting to cut into my skin because I was gripping it so hard. And for some reason, I couldn't see it very clearly; everything had fogged up. I blinked, and was horrified to discover that I was crying.

I tried to wipe them away, but the more I did so the more I wept. I felt stupid and childish and needy to be doing this, but my heart was aching so horribly. . . . I missed my mom so bad.

I wrapped my arms around my knees and cried harder. _Mom, please help me. I need you. I love you. I want someone here to love me back. I want you back, Mom. COME BACK!_

"_Someone help me_," I whispered desperately. My throat felt tight, especially when I gulped. The pain was so bad I couldn't even swallow correctly.

Out of no where, a loud boom noise hit the back of my truck. The entire truck shook from the impact.

"What the Hell!" I shot up into a rigid sitting position. I was scared out of my skin. Nothing could possibly upset the balance of my truck. A rampaging herd of elephants might, but they weren't native to Forks. I think.

Whatever it was, it definitely came from the trunk area. I opened the car door and hopped out to investigate. Maybe a deer had grazed the truck? No; it would have to be a monster deer. The Incredible Hulk deer.

The pounding rain drenched me immediately. I shook my matted, tangled brown hair from my eyes and trudged through what seemed like an ocean to the back of the car.

If it hadn't been for the fact I was afraid of drowning, I would have fainted into the lake-sized puddle at my feet.

Because in the back storage area of my tuck, there lay a bronze haired, ivory winged angel, knocked out from when he plummeted from the sky into my car.

But besides that, there was two other things that caught my attention. One, the boy was undeniably the most gorgeous, inhuman being I had ever seen. His black eyelashes were exceptionally longer then my own, and he had snow white skin; a very sharp contrast to his beautifully messed up bronze hair.

And two . . . the gorgeous dude angel thing in my back of my car? Yeah. . . .

He was naked.


	2. Angelic Slumber

**( A/N I wanted to do a serious (or at least somewhat) fanfiction, so here it is. I always had the mental image of an angel falling from the sky, so I decided to make a serious, mature, occasionally funny fanfiction. So here you go! Also, for the person reading this. . . . I WANT MORE REVIEWS!!)**

I couldn't tear my eyes away from him. From those beautiful gossamer wings that protruded from his back, right under his pale shoulder blades. I reached out a quivering hand to stroke them, the rain still pounding on me. I stopped my hand, inches away from his skin.

It came to me then that he had to be positively freezing. He was going to suffer phenomena if he stayed in the back of my truck like that. I mean, the guy was naked, so it had to be cold!

I shook some of the water from my vision and prepared to scoop this guy up. I had to get him inside the truck to warm him up, but he looked double my height. I wished I had gone to the gym more often.

I scrambled into the back with him so I could gain more stable ground when I tried to fish him out. I slipped inside the truck and banged my head against the side. Colors flashed and pain took over. I was going to get a concussion if this banging my head routine didn't stop soon. . . .

I got onto my knees and ignored the aching bump on the back of my head. I slid over to his side and flipped him over gently. Or at least I tried; I was right, I couldn't do so well because he was twice my mass. I pushed against his side with al my strength. Wow! This angel was cold and impossibly hard, like a stone sculpture more then anything. I had always thought that angels would be warm and soft, but that wasn't the case apparently! Or maybe he was freezing because he was out here in the rain.

"Oh, come on, move!" I hissed at him. He wasn't responding to my pushing and nudging at all. It was as if he couldn't even feel it. I put a hand over his heart to check if it was still beating.

. . . .Nothing. _His heart wasn't beating!_

"Oh, no!" My voice sounded half-strangled. I killed an angel! Oh man, oh man, oh man. . . . I wondered if I could get sent to jail for this? For giving an angel a concussion when he fell into my truck and drowned, or bonked his head and got a horrible rain-induced disease? This just wasn't my day.

"Speak, Dammit!" I slapped him in the face. "OW!" I nursed my injured hand. It had bounced off him like a rubber ball!

I tried again; I grabbed his ankles and pulled him with all of my under-used muscles. After five whole minutes of tugging his feet so hard it would have popped them out of human sockets, I was finally able to move him. His body had only scooted a few inches, but that was okay with me. Finally, some progress. I repeated my pulling over and over again until I pushed him over the side of the truck . . . and into a mud puddle.

I swore loudly as I hopped next to him and turned him face up. His face wasn't bruised in anyway. Good; I wouldn't be reported for abuse at least. But I was astounded he hadn't woken from a four foot fall onto concrete. This guy was really dead to the world when he slept.

I dragged him through the muddy puddles and into the car. I had some difficulty pushing him into it, because he was all slippery. And he weighed roughly the same weight as a boulder, of course. But somehow I managed it. After huffing like a maniac and straining every single bone in my body to get him on the seat, the perfect, bronze haired angel was safely in my car. Satisfied that he was shielded by the rain, I went around to the driver's side and hopped in.

My car was going to be totally soaked from all the water we were releasing into it. My clothes were leaking the rain water into the back of my seat profusely, and my combat boots were spilling water from the inside out. I snuck a peek at the angel to see if he had the same effect to my car. Droplets of rain water clung to some of the gossamer ivory feathers of his wings, making them look as if they sparkled. My heart sped up at a ridiculous pace. His beauty was pure and flawless.

I didn't start the car immediately. There was a moment of silence as I tucked his huge wings close to his body. His wings were silken smooth, and I ran my hands over them, brushing away the rain drop. His whole frame shivered from my touch. I stroked his wings softer, warming up the feathery down. The texture reminded me of a baby chick; all furry and fluffy, but so smooth at the same time. I wondered if his perfectly muscled body could possibly compare to them. . . . Speaking of his body! Dear God. . . . You'd think that angels would have the decency to not give a girl a heart attack and wear some jeans at least?! My face was absolutely burning. Thank goodness he was knocked out; it would be embarrassing to explain I was blushing because of his nudity.

Not that I really minded. Secretly, I thought he was the most dazzling creature I ever met. And possibly the most gifted in the pelvic arena. I felt my cheeks redden and tore my eyes away from that particular area of this celestial being. Were angels supposed to be that hot? It should have been a sin. Nothing that brought on so much lust could ever be holy.

I heard a soft groan come from him. He was alive! That was good. His wings shivered a little bit, the soft snowy feathers of his wings blowing only in minuscule amounts. His head moved to the side sleepily and he let a sigh escape his lips; his amazingly luscious looking lavender lips. . . .

My body was subconsciously leaning closer to him, as if he had an aura of gravity all his own. Except this gravity . . . felt electric. As if there was an electric current passing from us. Like we were magnets begging to meet up with each other.

I pressed myself against the opposite window as fast as I could. This guy was dangerous---he drew people in like a Venus fly trap. An impossibly perfect Venus flytrap, but that was beside the point.

"Get a grip, Bella," I urged myself. My foot found the gas pedal and I pressed it down, determined to keep my eyes on the road and not on the person beside me.

Trees blurred past us as I sped down the road towards my house, chafing the speed limit set by my car. The only good thing about tonight was that it stopped raining now. The rest of my evening so far had been hell. I didn't get to defeat Mike in gym, and now I found an angel! I had to be one very unlucky person to get loaded with that.

I mean, all I wanted was to be a normal person! I wanted friends, a mother, and I wanted to have Charlie back. That's it. I'd like to believe my demands were pretty small. But no. . . . I got landed with . . . with . . . _him_. I gave the bronzed god another sneaky glance from the corner of my eye. He was still asleep, his head still on one side and his mouth partially opened. He whimpered softly in his dreams. It was a heart wrenching sound; he was in pain, even if it was only in his head. I wanted to ease the pain somewhat. But I could only do that when he was safe up in my cozy little home. He needed somewhere to sleep---I had a feeling that he would be staying with me a little while longer.

Finally we made it to my house. It was a little cabin in the middle of the woods, but it was able to stand by itself. It was strong, and that's what I liked about it. I got out of the car hastily and sloshed through the puddles over to my heavenly passenger. He didn't seem quite as heavy to me now; I had probably gained some serious weight lifting skills from the last time I tried to pick him up.

I let him fall against my shoulder and wrapped an arm firmly around his midsection to keep him steady as I struggled up the front steps with him. One of his wings opened reflexively when I touched his shoulder with my own. It flapped very softly for only one time and then wrapped possessively over my body, clutching me closer to him. My nose made contact with his neck, forcing me to accidentally take in a deep breath of his scent.

The smell of him was impossibly delicious, the grandest scent in the world. It was as if he had played in honey suckle and then got splashed with a jar of the sweetest vanilla extract in the world. Except better. More concentrated than that; he was the cause of such a smell. Nothing could possibly compare to him.

My thoughts scattered like leaves in a brisk autumn wind. It took me awhile to breathe normally again and focus on the task at hand---to bring this physically faultless individual to the shelter of a warm room. I heaved him onto the porch and fumbled with my key from the pocket on my S.H.E. Sugar Hooker purse. One handed, I jammed the key into the lock, twisted it roughly and then kicked the door open with my foot. The angel's wing was still draped over me in a protective manner; as if he was shielding me from something dangerous. Or maybe that was my overactive imagination playing games with my head.

I pulled his body over to the red and white plaid couch in the living room. His pale bare feet dragged over the carpet, his immaculate toes making a trail as they went against the rug. I set him gently onto the sofa, wings side up. I turned his face to the side so he didn't suffocate against the pillow in his slumber. His odd colored hair ruffled from the movement. I pulled a few strands away from his eyes, marveling at how glossy his hair was.

My eyes raked over his form. The angel's wings were neatly folded like a bird's against his back. He smiled subconsciously, and my voice caught in my throat. He had the most breathtaking smile I had ever seen. And he was asleep too; I could only imagine the effect it would have on me when he was awake.

His fingers twitched and his eye brows furrowed slightly. He pulled his wings closer to his body, heating himself. That's when I pulled myself out of my daze.

"Oh! I'll go get you a blanket," I said guiltily. He didn't say anything, which is about all I really expected. I grabbed a flannel blanket from the hallway cupboard and hurried to his side. I swathed his body with the fabric and tucked him in, making sure that his wings were snuggly inside. His impossibly dark eyelashes seemed to look longer when he smiled contentedly from the warmth. If I looked closely, I could see a little blush forming just above his cheek bones. It made my heart skip a beat and melt completely.

My stomach growled, making my hunger known. I hadn't eaten at all today. Although I did just find a celestial being who fell from the sky, so I probably had a good excuse for missing lunchtime. I grabbed a bottle of Yoo-Hoo from the fridge, shaking it vigorously so it could taste better.

The chocolate milk really did straighten me out; or at least made me sleepy. After recycling the glass bottle and trudging my aching feet down the hallway to my bedroom, I shut the door behind me and locked it. If the guy sleeping on my couch woke up, I didn't want him where I slept. He may have been an angel, but he was still a guy, and I knew how the male mind worked.

I flung myself onto the dark red sheets of my water bed, bouncing a few times before halting to a stop. I pulled the sheets up to my chin and snuggled in, turning around to face the moon, which was beaming down at me through my window. A shooting star shot across the night time sky; a beautiful blur.

My eyelids drooped sleepily. My vision was getting more and more incoherent as I let slumber overwhelm me. And then, I was completely out of it.

-------------------------- ' early in the morning ' --------------------------

I stirred, awoken by the weak sunlight that escaped my blinds. Last night I had such a bizarre dream. . . . I dreamt that I was being held down against my will by strong hands. I kept trying to wiggle free from their hold because they kept trying to hack off my wings from my skin. My gorgeous bat wings . . . I needed them to swoop down onto the unsuspecting town's people here in Forks. I had been so close to shearing all of Lauren's blond hair off too.

I rubbed my eyes and yawned, drawing the blankets closer to me. I didn't want to wake up yet; it was a Saturday! It couldn't be later then six o'clock in the morning. Definitely not my time of day. I hated mornings.

I tossed uncomfortably in my bed. The blankets were probably caught in the corner or something, because they didn't move an inch when I attempted to get warmer. I tried again, tugging harder then usual. I felt a pressure on the left side of the bed. So that's where it was caught.

I let the blanket remain difficult however. If I battled with it I would only wake myself further. Instead, I rolled over closer to it, sure that it would be warmer then the other side.

I bumped into something very cold and impossibly hard. My forehead creased, but I kept my eyes closed. With one of my hands under the sheets, I slowly lifted them up to feel the object besides me.

My fingers trailed along something that felt very much like a thigh and a hip. My eyelids scrunched tight, confused. However, I continued moving upwards. I felt something along the lines of very tight abdominal musculature and smooth arms. Curious, my fingertips splayed over the perfectly placed limb muscles for an arm. Still, my hand went onward onto a smooth, slim neck, and then a few satin like spokes of messy corn-silk hair. I felt a pointed jaw, a delicate nose, and then my fingers came to rest on what felt like velvety lips, the breath of the person coming in and out slowly.

Wow, this dream was very vivid. I actually _believed_ that some guy was in my bed right next to me. I smiled in self-pity and snuggled closer to the object, sliding both of my hands around it. I shivered. This thing beside me was freezing! Positively glacial, like it was locked in a freezer all night. But I didn't mind. I wrapped my arms tighter around it. And felt something. . . . odd. Something that felt suspiciously like . . . like. . . .

_An angel's wings._

My eyelids snapped open in alarm. And I choked over my own voice, failing to even scream.

The beautiful bronze haired angel was sleeping in my bed, enveloping his arms around me as well, pulling me closer to his chest.

I felt something against my thigh. Something no one but a guy could have, lets say.

GOOD GRIEF!! HE WAS STILL NAKED!!


	3. Meet Edward, My Gaurdian Angel

I had to be hallucinating; I had dumped the angel on the couch last night. I had locked the door to my bedroom. I had made sure the angel was asleep when I left the room. So how was it possible that he was lying in my bed? What, did he slither under the door crack? Did he sneak through the ventilation system? Did he _sleep walk_?

But I wasn't dreaming or hallucinating. The glorious, inhumanly beautiful bronze haired boy with ivory wings sleeping in my bed proved it.

I couldn't breathe. Oh my God. . . . A boy had slept in my bed. With me. A hideous thought suddenly popped into my mind; what if this guy had raped me in my sleep?! I didn't know anything about him, so it was perfectly plausible to believe he would have done such a thing. There had to be a reason he had been knocked from heaven in the first place; maybe he was a rapist?! What if God had hurled him down below to get rid of him?

But if that was the case, why didn't he just send him to hell? God definitely had the power to do that. Or at least that's what I believed.

Oh well. If God wouldn't send this rapist-angel-thing to hell, then I would. How dare this creature sleep with me without my consent? I felt angry tears forming. He stole my virginity! After I saved him from drowning or freezing to death, he just took away something I held dearly.

I wanted this bastard's blood. He was going to pay_. Dearly. _I scrambled out of my bed and almost fell to the floor in my effort to escape from him. His arms closed around air, making his eyes scrunch tight and his wings reflex.

I watched him warily, feeling my rage-induced tears slide down my cheek. How dare he rape me?! Suddenly, I realized something.

I was fully clothed. I was dressed exactly as I had been when I fell asleep.

Relief washed over me. So I hadn't been violated. . . . My virginity was still intact, and I didn't have to commit angel murder. But I was still going to make him pay. He needed to back off and learn from this, and he wasn't leaving unscratched.

I grabbed my alarm clock with fierce determination, and flung it as hard as I could against his body. Little metal pieces of clockwork flew all over the place, shattering upon contact with his skin. I yelled out when a sharp piece grazed my right arm, scratching it. The pain kicked in slowly, and I placed a hand over the wound to apply some pressure. I felt something sticky. I pulled back my hand to find out that I was bleeding; thick, red liquid was leaking little droplets of blood onto my bedclothes. Perfect. . . .

Time to wake this dude up. And I sure as hell wasn't going to be nice about it.

"Hey! Wake up!" I screamed. "Get the hell out of my bed! Who do you think you are, anyway? You can't take advantage of sleeping girls!" I inched closer to my bedroom door, ready to bolt if he made any sudden motions. Who knew what this guy could be capable of?

The angel stirred from my bed groggily. His wings stretched out as he yawned, sending me a wave of sweet smelling air. He sat up slowly, rubbing some sleep out of his eyes.

"Who are you?" I whispered angrily. Even though I was beyond furious with him, he was still handsome. My heart was pounding in fear, anger and the wrath of hormones.

The angel's head jerked quickly to where I was. I apparently startled him.

My breathing all but stopped completely. If I thought he was handsome when he was asleep. . . . It was _nothing _compared to when he was awake. He was stunning. Radiant. The center of all shockingly untainted beauty.

I was staring into a pair of endless emerald eyes rimmed with the most velvety baby doll black eyelashes. I couldn't break his hold; I tried, but it was too hard not to give in. All that really mattered was focusing on the precious gems of his irises.

Then, he blinked. I tore my eyes away from his own at last, gaining control of myself. Or at least, I was close to doing so until he smiled crookedly. I just stood there, gawking at him like an idiot, temporarily dazed.

"Hello, Isabella," he greeted, his voice musical and muted.

"Bella," I corrected automatically.

"Bella," he amended. He made a motion to stand up, but I quickly stopped him.

"Clothes! No way do I want to get flashed!" I shook my head in horror, shielding my eyes. I heard a chuckle come from his general direction.

"Fine. Sorry, but I didn't bring any clothes with me. Can I borrow some?"

I nodded my head and crawled over to my dresser, blushing furiously. I reached my hand into a drawer and came up with an over sized pair of black Tripp pants. After tossing that over my shoulder and onto the bed, I dug around blindly until I felt a long sleeved shirt, and then promptly threw it at him.

"There. Now get dressed. I'm planning on killing you later," I warned. I exited the room without looking at him again. My face felt as if it was on fire. I can't believe I just let him borrow my clothes after he bunked with me without my consent. I was way to nice for my own good.

I hadn't even waited a full minute before he popped out of my bed room, this time decent. The pants fit him perfectly. They were okay; the shirt however, was questionable. I had handed him a black shirt with a bold pink patch sporting the words "I've Come to Suck You're Blood". The angel, however, looked as if he was enjoying wearing it. He looked completely at home in my Goth chick clothing.

He gave me a searching look, seeming to feel my rage. "Um . . . why don't we sit down? This is going to take a long time to explain."

"I'm sure it will," I agreed icily. "How about we start with this. _Why the hell were you in my bed_?" I hissed at him. He seemed as if he had known this was going to come sooner or later.

I steered him over to the couch and pushed him down. "Spill it," I ordered.

"I assume you'd like me to start at the beginning?" he asked me politely.

"I'd like you to start with why you were in my bed." I made no attempt to seem friendly. This guy didn't deserve it.

His eyebrows furrowed. "It won't make any sense if I start from there. I wouldn't want to confuse you."

"Just tell me," I growled, impatient.

"Fine." He took a deep breath. "I came into your bed last night because it causes physical pain for guardians to be separated over their humans."

I stared at him, uncomprehending. "Guardians?"

"I told you that it would be confusing." The corners of his lips pulled up a tiny bit. "Do you want me to explain myself completely, now that you know that I was right?"

"Fine," I mumbled irritably. I sat down as far away from him as the couch could allow, giving him a basilisk glare.

His wings folded themselves in a content fashion. Well, that shirt was bound to be in shambles; he had to have cut a hole into the back of it in order to squeeze his wings through. He owed me a new shirt. I took mental note of this to place a future revenge against him.

"Alright," he began. He looked deeply into my eyes, holding me in place with his warm bottle green gaze. "You know what I am, right?"

"A pigeon," I said sarcastically. His eyes tightened.

"Very funny. Be serious, please."

"An angel. Duh. What, you forgot your own species?"

"No sarcasm," he warned. "This is serious stuff."

"You're right; bed hopping celestial beings are pretty crucial to understand."

He glared at me, beating me at my own game. "Do you want me to continue with this, or not?"

"Fine. But hurry it up; I'm planning on ramming that coffee table down your throat in a few seconds."

"Now, that's not at all nice. Would you honestly do that to your guardian angel?" He asked, not a hint of humor in his god-like features.

"That depends. Would my guardian angel honestly bed-hop?" I countered.

"I told you; it causes physical pain to be separated. Now shut up and listen." His tone was dangerous, and his eyes were narrowed. I pouted and crossed my arms. After making sure I wasn't going to interrupt again, he continued. "I will have to start with my name. I'm Edward," he said, politely inclining his head towards me. I grunted unhappily in response. Edward chose to pointedly ignore that.

"I'm a guardian. In other words, a guardian angel. It's sort of like charity work for the un-judged; for those in Heaven's waiting room, let's say. Everyone has a guardian angel who was assigned to them at birth. I just so happen to be yours. Are you following me so far?" He looked over at me, waiting to continue.

"I believe that isn't too complicated for my brain to not comprehend so far. Go on," I urged.

"Anyway, I was watching over you yesterday when I was caught off guard. I hadn't expected you to say the right words to summon me to you while I was on guard duty. Your mother told you the story of the witch, right?" he asked. I nodded. "Well, the witch also happened to be an angel. Thus, guardian angels were invented."

"So . . . you're binded to me, just like the witch in the story was binded to her sister?"

He grinned. "Yep! And I was summoned to your side just like the witch too!"

"Well, if I summoned you, then I can put you back," I surmised. I mean, it made sense. He didn't have to stay with me 24/7, right?

"Actually, no you can't. I'm staying here," he said calmly. "Or at least I'm staying here until my duty is fulfilled."

"Duty?" I asked woodenly.

"Yes; it's my duty to help you, remember? It's a guardian angel thing." He shrugged.

"Well, what's your duty? To scare me half to death by dropping into my truck?" I demanded.

Edward grimaced. "That was actually an accident---the pull of the words was stronger then I anticipated. Stronger then gravity, even. All I remember is suddenly falling out of my place where I was watching you and plummeting thousands of feet."

"Would it have killed you to put on a loin cloth at the very least? It was very distracting to have to drag you around the place," I explained, blushing again. He watched my cheeks flame up in amusement.

"We don't need clothes in purgatory. It gets in the way of flight and other stuff." He sounded wickedly amused. "Nudity aside, I hadn't planned on passing out; it must have been this temperature," he mused.

"Temperature?"

"Yes, purgatory has no weather, no temperature. Just vast open space, in between the gate to heaven and the gate to hell. This Earth weather is fairly new to me. Or at least, now it is. It didn't use to be this way."

Wow. I couldn't imagine a place without a weather system. It must have been really hard to live through that. I'd be bored out of my mind.

"Anyway," Edward started again. "After you had made skin contact with me, you signed the binding spell; I can't leave you alone for too long without feeling physical pain. Which would explain the new sleeping quarters for me," he said sheepishly.

"Can you explain something to me?" I asked him, gauging his reaction. He nodded and waited, seeming to brace himself for the worst. "How did you get into my bedroom? I was positive I locked that door."

He looked insulted. "I'd like to think I have enough magic in me to get past doors! That's a child's trick; I've been doing it since I first died."

"Phasing through locked doors isn't advanced?" I asked, shocked.

"About as advanced as folding socks, actually," he said flatly. "That's a basic move that you learn when you are brand new to the guardian job. After learning the basics, you excel to different areas of expertise, such as death, healing, and even incisor retrieval. That's what mortals call the Tooth Fairy, just so you know," he added when he saw my blank look. "I'm a guardian with a strong healing foundation. I can heal illnesses and broken limbs and such; and even a broken heart." Edward's eyes suddenly softened as he finished his sentence, as if the last part meant something more then the rest. "Which brings us to my duty. To heal you."

"To heal me? I'm perfectly healthy," I pointed out. "I dragged you through the rain. I'm as healthy as a horse---so your services are not needed here."

"You weren't listening, were you? I mentioned a broken heart. You are in prime _physical _condition, but as for your _heart_ . . . ." He trailed off. "It isn't doing so well. So I'm here to heal you and fix it. Then I'm gone; you look as if you wish I'd disappear already."

"Oh really? I was trying so hard to hide it," I muttered sarcastically, my mood becoming sour once more.

Great, I was stuck with him. Possibly for the rest of my miserable life. Maybe even my _after_life---because the wound my mother left when she passed on was going to scar me for eternity it seemed. Once the rainbow vanished, the same rainbow could not come back or be replaced by a similar one.

I realized that I had slid a hand over my chest to cover my aching heart. It felt as if someone had recently smacked it with a mallet, sending shards of it all over my insides. I slipped into a mask of emotionless, not revealing to this guy how right he was about my heart being mangled and stitched haphazardly together.

It was silent for a long time---I was staring at the floor, and Edward was watching me. I focused on a patch of blue carpet, not really seeing it. Why hadn't a female angel helped me out? Didn't my mother tell me that day on the picnic that she and I were binded? She never mentioned that I was binded to a male angel. Had that completely escaped her thoughts at all? 'Sorry, I forgot to mention that a total knock-out dude-angel-thing is going to watch over you if I went away and never returned?'

"You can talk to me about it," Edward suggested softly. I quickly glanced up at him, startled that he offered that. His expression was utterly sincere; he looked empathetic at my situation.

"No, I'd rather not," I said. He let the subject go, sensing that I didn't want to dwell on it.

"So what are we going to do today?" he asked, standing up in a blindingly fast motion. I raised an eyebrow at his speed, making a mental note of just how fast he was. It could come in handy to know that.

I looked him up and down carefully through silted eyes. Edward was standing there in my living room, smiling in my clothes, his wings fluttering slightly. That's when it hit me; his wings.

"You're going to retract the feathers, first," I ordered, gesturing to his fluffy wings. They glittered in the morning light as if glitter had been dumped on them---an enrapturing sight, indeed. They were so pretty. Kind of like the dude they were attached to.

"Right. Sorry; I should have done that sooner. I'm afraid I owe you a new shirt, cara," he apologized.

I gave him an undisguised bewildered look. "Cara? My name is Bella----some guardian angel you are; you can't even remember my name."

"It's Italian, Bella."

"Oh," I said, feeling stupid. "Never mind then. Now about that shirt situation; I have an idea, but it requires surgically removing your wings."

"That won't be necessary," he said quickly, stroking his feathers possessively. I smirked at him. "But I'm willing to disguise them. You still do tattoos on Earth, right? It's been a rather long time since I lived here."

"Yeah, we do them. You can't drive through new York City without passing several. Why?" I asked.

He looked at me as if I had missed something obvious. "To disguise my wings, of course. Now try to keep quiet; it takes silence to perfect the operation." I reluctantly hushed up, watching him as he shut his eyes in concentration. His mouth became a tight line as his shoulders stiffened uncomfortably.

Suddenly, the air around us seemed unreasonably cold. As if someone had kept the air conditioner full blast all night and I was standing in the middle of a snow drift. I shivered and wrapped my arms around my body in a futile attempt to warm myself.

A soft, pale purple glow filled the room, emitting from Edward's wings. They convulsed wildly, sending powerful waves of air to beat against me. The waves of air knocked me breathless and I almost missed the grand finale; a smile suddenly flashed across his face, adding even more of a blinding light if that was possible. And then his wings vanished completely with another blinding flash of light.

He whirled around proudly so I could admire his handiwork. I was fairly impressed by what I found. Dark purple wings were etched onto his skin, forming just where his real wings had been. He had gotten a tattoo that reached from his back to his hips in thirty seconds flat. Wow, that was some service. There was only one thing I didn't like; the fact that my shirt was completely shredded.

"Aren't they nice?" he asked me. "Sure, kind of conspicuous, but they're very attractive looking tattoos for my first time marking myself. I've practiced on my friends, but never myself before."

"Yes, they are actually," I admitted. He grinned, satisfied with his art.

"Anyway, what was your plan?" He turned to face me, becoming more serious.

"Let me get dressed first, and then I'll tell you," I said. I was about to pass him before I got a bad thought again. "And I don't care if you're on the ground screaming in pain--- don't sneak into my shower while I'm in it. Or else I'm going to rip you a new one. Got it?" I said acidly. Edward just got wide eyes, smiled and nodded. Humph! Not scared? Well, he should be!

I ran into my room and grabbed some fresh clothes---a lacy black corset and some clean black jeans---and then snuck into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. I knew it wouldn't be a lot, but I locked the door. Sure, he could get through that, but it was my only defense. I eyed the doorknob wearily as if expecting it to turn on its own accord. I was going to have to remain vigilant; ready to attack with a bottle of Pantene if necessary.

The water felt hot and good against my back. All the tight muscles loosened with each drop of water raining down onto me. After lathering my strawberry Pantene (a new scent that I had purchased over a week ago) into my long brown hair, I rinsed quickly and toweled myself at light speed.

I threw on my clothes as fast as I could, ending up tripping over my combat boots as I franticly scrambled around trying to make myself presentable. I applied my usual heavy dose of black eye shadow skillfully, only poking myself in the eye once. And then, I was ready to face the world with the dude in my living room.

I swept through the hallway breezily and found him sitting on the couch contentedly. He was flipping through my Gothic Beauty magazines, his legs crossed. He looked up at me and gave me the once over. "Are you ready to tell me what we're up to today?"

"Yes," I said. "We're going to the mall. I am not going to let you ruin my shirt without paying me back so easily; and also, we need to get you guy clothes. I don't want to risk any further destruction, and I'm sure you don't want to eventually wear a leather mini skirt."

He didn't seem at all fazed. "I have been known to wear a few skirts, on occasion."

"Why am I not surprised?" I muttered to myself. "You seem like the guy who would go commando in a mini any day; I should have seen this one coming." Speaking of commando. . . . Oh yeah. I was definitely burning those clothes when I finally peeled them off of him.

I had to have lost it. I was dragging an angel I just met to the mall to buy him the necessities of life so he could stay with me. For an indefinite amount of time. The thought made me want to groan. But maybe if I tried to be happy he would leave faster? Because this was a really small town. The people here already gossiped about me enough, I didn't need a guy in the mix. Word would reach my dad, he'd come back and demand that I ditch Edward, I'd explain that I couldn't because he was my guardian angel, and my dad would cart me away to a padded cell. Much too dramatic for my taste. So I was going to keep him a secret for awhile at least.

I grabbed his hand and turned on my heel to my truck. It wasn't until we were sitting in the seats did I realize that he was bare footed. Okay; we had some serious shopping to do.

I gripped the steering wheel determinedly. I was a woman on a mission. A mission to Port Angelus mall.


	4. Heavenly Hot Topic

The car ride was awkward for me. I wasn't sure what to say to him, even though I was pretty sure that it was the polite thing to do since he was right next to me and I was his only friend here on Earth. I gave him a side long glance that lasted longer then I had originally planned; as soon as I looked at his face I couldn't tear my eyes away. This effect had better not be permanent or we were definitely going to have problems.

Edward seemed to be enjoying himself. His brilliant jade eyes were darting from the rearview mirror, the wet scenery rushing past us as I drove, and finally rested on the interior of the car. He seemed to want to soak everything in like a knowledge sponge. I smiled against my will. It was kind of cute to see someone so pleased to be in a place so dull. Like watching a foreigner take in all the sites when they visit America for the first time. He was the extreme version of a foreigner though; instead of another country, he came from another world.

I put on the radio to divert his attention to our technology. I was sure they didn't have electricity in purgatory. He snapped to attention as soon as the first chords of my latest Evanescence CD played. It was the last CD I had placed in the radio beforehand; I must have forgotten it was in there or something. Next car trip I was definitely bringing I Am Ghost with me. **(A/N that is an excellent underground Goth band, I highly recommend them to everyone who likes My Chemical Romance and Kill Hannah)**

_**I can't see your star  
I can't see your star  
though I patiently waited, bedside, for the death of today  
I can't see your star  
the mechanical lights of Lisbon frightened it away  
**_

Wow. . . . This was one of my favorite songs from the CD. My mother liked to listen to it too. I remembered singing this with her while we were cooking in the kitchen. She called it "Home economics with a soundtrack". I felt my heart twist as I saw her smiling face pop back into my mind.

_**and I'm alone now  
me and all I stood for  
we're wandering now  
all in parts in pieces, swim lonely  
find your own way out  
**_  
_**I can't see your star  
I can't see your star  
how can the darkness feel so wrong?**_

and I'm alone now  
me and all I stood for  
we're wandering now  
all in parts in pieces, swim lonely  
find your own way out

So far away  
its growing colder without your love  
why can't you feel me calling your name?   
Can't break the silence  
it's breaking me  


Oh God. . . . This song was major depressing. I should have never brought it into the car; even though it brought good memories of her, they still ripped through my system like a dagger cutting wet tissue paper. My eyes stung---oh crap. The water works were coming. I fought them down viciously. I was hyperaware that Edward was watching me from the corner of his eye and I didn't want to make a scene over a song. I decided to wait the rest of the lyrics out. The song was almost over anyway.

_**All my fears turn to rage  
and I'm alone now me  
and all I stood for   
we're wandering now  
all in parts and pieces, swim lonely   
find your own way out**_

With a sigh of relief, I popped out the CD and stashed it away under my seat. I had made it without crying. With a sudden spurt of self-satisfaction, I focused on the road more clearly again.

"That was a sad song. Do all humans feel that way?" Edward finally asked. It took me a few seconds to think up a good enough answer.

"Yes and no," I said slowly. He waited for me to explain further, shifting to sit facing me. I couldn't help but notice how my shirt was tight against his perfectly sculpted chest, defining each line of his musculature. My pants clung against his waist in a complimentary fashion; not too tight like the metro boys or too loose like all the gangsta boys at my school. Just simply hugging his hips. They looked slim, yet very nicely sized as well. For a split second I felt the strongest impulse to rest my hands against them. I violently shook the thought out of my head, feeling my cheeks heat up. Bad thoughts. . . .

"Humans feel many emotions. Sadness just so happens to be a major one," I explained. I became suddenly very interested in the Suburban in front of me. My face was as red as a Christmas bauble and I didn't want to look him straight in the eyes until I had gained sufficient control over my facial expressions.

"Ah, yes, of course," he murmured. "Sadness affects my purpose on Earth, however, and I'd appreciate it if you stopped listening to depressing music from now on. It messes up my work."

My head swiveled around to him. "You aren't going to tell me what music I can and con not listen to! I can listen to whatever songs I want, thanks!"

"It is just a request. It would make things a great deal easier for me, is all."

"Request denied," I said acidly. His eyes narrowed infinitesimally as I drove closer to the mall. We were about a mile away now. I could tell from the way the houses were starting to appear more often.

"Well, if that request was vetoed, is it okay if I turn on a song that _I_ like?" he asked. I nodded and watched as he turned the knob of the radio on. I wondered what song he'd pick. I sincerely hoped he wouldn't get into rap while he was on this planet. We already had too many rap fans here in America.

_**I'm in love with the girl I hate,**_

_**She enjoys pointing out every bad thing about me,**_

_**I'm in love with a cryptic and a skeptic,**_

_**I'd trade her; I'd trade her in a second**_

_**She's a backseat driver, a drama provider **_

_**An instant update of the world**_

_**She's a first class liner, a constant forgetter **_

_**She's attractive, but bitter**_

Well; this band---Forever the Sickest Kids---was pretty okay. I liked it. Sure, techno-punk wasn't precisely my thing, but I liked them all the same. So did Edward apparently. He was humming along to the song like he knew exactly what the rhythm was. He had a nice hum. I wondered what his singing would sound like.

_**Did you scream enough to make to make her cry, **_

_**Turn around, turn around, baby don't re turn to me**_

_**If you did, then I'm not worth your time**_

Okay, so they were very good. He had great taste in music and it was only his first day (conscious) on Earth? That wasn't fair. I pouted but listened to the song anyway. Might as well not waste good music.

_**She's a lady, a lady, and shouldn't be messed with**_

_**Take off your shoes, come in the room,**_

_**And baby let's shut up to argue**_

_**Turn off the lights, **_

_**Turn on the radio**_

At this point I was humming along with Edward and begrudgingly returning the smile he was making when he noticed I was joining in. we even made a bizarre car dance involving shaking our shoulders and heads in time to the beat.

_**I'm too busy loving you, I'm too busy loving you, **_

_**Did you scream enough to make her cry**_

_**Turn around, turn around, baby don't return to me**_

It was starting to get really fun in the truck now. I was giggling while Edward tried not to laugh too hard at my face. I was turning a bright pink because I was having such a good time. But I didn't really care at the moment. I was too busy one of the most entertaining moments in my life.

_**She's a lady, a lady, that shouldn't be messed with**_

_**Here I am; there you go again**_

_**I will not ever be eighteen again**_

_**So here I am waiting for you, for you **_

_**Come back, and come back to me**_

_**And I'll take you gladly**_

_**And I'll take you anyway**_

_**Did you scream enough to make her cry?**_

_**Turn around, turn around, baby don't return to me,**_

_**If you did then I'm not worth your time**_

_**She's a lady, a lady, that shouldn't be messed with**_

_**She's a lady, a lady, that shouldn't be messed with**_

The song stopped with a final beat just as I pulled into the mall's parking lot. It was jam-packed with cars, as if the United States had just randomly decided to attend a small strip mall in the middle of Washington.

"Tell me if you see a car space, alright?" I told him. He nodded slightly and craned his neck to look through the murky window and scout out a spot. After a strenuous hunt---including an incident where I almost ran over a stray dog until Edward helpfully grabbed the wheel and avoided making a doggie road-pizza---I finally beat an old lady for a spot near a hair salon. She glared at us as we hopped into a puddle that had flooded most of the parking lot. It looked as if she was the devil himself by the way she was staring us down.

"Stupid, old bat," I grumbled to myself as she drove away; possibly in search of another free space. I didn't pretend not to notice that she had driven off while flipping us off.

Edward was gazing at her station wagon solemnly. "The aura of death is around that one. She is going to leave this world soon."

"What?" I spun around to him, shocked. "Geez, I didn't want her to die!"

"This doesn't have anything to do with your hatred. This has to do with her failing heart. She isn't going to last the drive home. It shall be on the news tonight, I can imagine. The police will think she fell asleep at the wheel or something. That woman had a history of driving drunk." He continued to stare in the direction she had taken off.

"How. . . . How do you know that?" I asked, awestruck.

"I can just tell. I've been around death to know its signs. And I certainly had a lot of time on my hands, so I can read the files of humans on Earth in purgatory. We have a nice little office system," he said calmly.

"Well, let's have a bet. If she croaks and it's on the news, I won't kick you out to live on the streets." I grinned at his obvious indignation. Edward just stood there with his arms crossed, letting the rain soak into his clothes.

"Fine," he finally agreed. He gingerly shook my hand as if it could turn into a venomous snake at any moment.

I led him towards the mall doors and out of the rain as soon as our hands touched, jerking him forward in a speedy motion.

"Ouch, I think you got my arm out of its socket," he complained, massaging his shoulder as we entered through the motion detecting doors.

"Don't be a baby. You're as hard as a rock; it shouldn't hurt at all."

"It isn't my fault that you're an Amazonian."

I rolled my eyes and steered him into the brightly lit, linoleum-lined J. C. Penny that made the entrance. Rows and rows of plaid and over priced suits, royal gowns for a prom that wouldn't happen for months and crocodile skinned high heels surrounded us like a strange forest of hideousness. I even spotted the local wild life---a few red vested employees stalking the customers down the aisles.

"Come on; let's leave this part of the urban jungle before you get eaten," I hissed under my breath to Edward.

"Hmm?" he said. I looked at him curiously. He was analyzing his surroundings like a child assessing a mountain of candy. His eyes were shining with excitement and he was smiling a mile a minute. I felt proud to show him the mall; and even more proud that I was going to show him a few of my favorite stores.

A pigtailed cashier had abandoned her post to hide behind a rack of blue jeans. I heard her hyperventilating and muttering something indistinct about "smoking hot Goth boys". I suddenly remembered that Edward was in my clothes. He was going to attract attention if he dressed like me; and bad attention at that. I didn't want him to go through the same thing I had to. No angel should. He was here for charity work; I was here to be punished by my fellow peers.

I deliberately stood closer than necessary to him in a protective motion. He allowed me to pull him towards the escalator, not seeming to notice the people---specifically women---who were paying more attention to his body then their shopping.

I stepped onto the escalator and began to move up. Until I tripped over my own feet, that is. The moving staircase was speeding to meet my face as I crashed down. It looked painful. I shut my eyes tightly, anticipating a broken nose and blood leaking all over the place.

But the loud crunch of my bone didn't sound off. I felt strong, cold arms holding me around my midsection. With a sigh of utter relief, I opened my eyes to reveal Edward with a weary expression on his face.

"It's going to be much more difficult looking after you then I thought," he commented softly, his breath caressing my cheek and swirling into my head. I was temporarily dazed until I felt the familiar level feeling of being on stable ground again.

"Um, come on, I have a place to get you some clothes," I mumbled. He smiled crookedly and let his arms fall to his sides. I was certain that my heart was pounding hard enough to be heard out loud, so I skillfully turned away from him and sped in the direction of the food court. The store I knew would make him blend in with the civilians---even if I didn't agree with their particular dress code.

Abercrombie and Fitch. The center of all evil.

I stood outside the opening as if there was a powerful barrier keeping me out. Posters of half-naked men were pasted against the walls; who the heck was the designer of this place? No one wanted to see ugly dudes with their shirts off. I scrutinized the bright preppy wardrobe options in obvious distaste.

Edward looked at the store and then back down to me. "Aren't we going in?"

"No. you are, not me. I don't feel so . . . comfortable in stores like this," I said uneasily.

"Then I'm not shopping here."

"What do you mean 'you're not shopping here'?! I brought you here to blend in! Would you prefer wearing women's clothes? _Or running nude_?" I demanded.

He shook his head. "I'm not shopping here. My duty is to make you happy, not to blend in. And I want to shop where you shop. To be more like you."

I was touched. "But then you'd be considered a freak. I can't ask you to go through with that for me," I protested.

"You don't have to ask. This is my decision." His emerald eyes smoldered. I blushed but nodded reluctantly.

"Fine; it's you're funeral."

I happily fled from the revolting store entrance, feeling slightly better knowing that I was going to an environment that I felt more comfortable in. I breezed past a boutique selling sequin pins and perfume that was guarded by a lady with a fake smile and a crème colored suit. Her eyes narrowed as I passed, seeming to attempt to pierce through my shoulder blades. I didn't give her the time of day and just kept my vision focused in front of me. I couldn't help but notice that when she spotted Edward her face twisted into a look of complete disbelief.

The smell of lemonade and cinnamon pretzels permeated the air like a delicious perfume. We were getting close. The food court was straight across from my three favorite stores in the entire world: Death Shrouds, Hot Topic, and Infectious Threads. Hot Topic was the most famous, a store renown throughout the globe as the finest place to purchase anything Tripp. It sold everything from pants and band tee shirts to CDs and bike tires.

Infectious Threads had more combat boots and army surplus then any shop I had ever visited. They even had a special Wiccan section to buy supplies for spells. A box of stones to ground with was the hot item in the bin today. The reason they were doing so well? Because I came here frequently to buy them.

Death Shrouds was an intimate store. Lingerie, corsets, French maid uniforms and even bondage kits lined the counters. But more importantly, pinstripe boxers were hidden within. Just what a certain angel needed. Because my undies were off limits to him.

"Here we are," I announced grandly. Edward processed the stores in front of him for a little while and then finally smiled down at me.

"I like them," he said excitedly. "So when do we shop?"

"Erm." I blushed. "Um, actually I won't be coming with you into the stores."

His eye brows furrowed. "Huh? I thought you were going to help me out here. I have no idea what to buy."

I stared at him incredulously. "You're kidding me?"

He shook his head. I continued to just stare at him. Wow, he was pathetic.

"Here's some money," I said, taking a fistful out of my purse. "Go crazy. Get what you know is right to get. And also," I strained this part, "buy some underwear."

Oh God. My face was flaming like the fiery pits of hell right now. I couldn't believe I could get so embarrassed.

Edward chuckled. "Fine. No commando for me."

"There better _never_ be another commando incident for as long as you stay here."

"Okay. Where will I find you when I am finished?"

"The food court," I said automatically. I was famished. And a warm cinnamon pretzel and a tall, ice cold glass of lemonade seemed to be the most appealing at the moment.

"Alright." He smiled one last time before entering Hot Topic, the dark lights engulfing his dark form.

**(A/N people have asked questions regarding both this story and my Afterlife of the Party fanfic. **

**Q: Why are Edward's eyes green in this story? **

**A: Read the personal correspondence on the Twilight Lexicon. Edward's eyes were originally green as a human, and since Edward was **_**never**_** a vampire in this fanfic, he never got gold or red eyes. They remained green. **

**Q: Are you going to do every character in your stories Goth?**

**A: Goth comes naturally for me, and it makes for a good plot. But notice that not **_**all**_** of my characters are Goth in the other fanfics. So in answer to that question, no not every fanfic shall have a Goth Bella or Edward. **

**If any one has any other questions, they shall probably be revealed in other chapters. **


	5. Friend From Heaven, Enemy From Hell

Now that Edward was out shopping for his clothes, I was free for a little while. I really didn't want to shop with him while he went around searching for his undergarments and such. I was confident that he would know what to buy though; he seemed intelligent enough to know the difference between 'acceptable to wear' and 'not acceptable to wear'. But my reasoning didn't reach the pit of my stomach. I had a bad feeling that setting him loose would have consequences to the highest degree for me in the future.

I shook off my uneasiness and walked to the nearest Auntie Anne's to get my sustenance for the day. Several Baby Phat enthusiasts shamelessly stared as I trooped past them. I even caught a girl with the word "cute" stamped across her buttocks taking a picture of me with her iPhone, sniggering at the turn-out when my photo showed up. Her friends laughed and gestured from the phone and then back at me. I could catch the indistinct insults that included words that sounded vaguely like "freak", "creepy" and "vampire".

Idiots. I smiled and waved at them, catching them off guard. They eyed me as if I had moon walked while singing 'Baby Got Back'. **(A/N "I like big butts, can't deny. . . ." okay, I'll stop lol) **The girl holding the phone rolled her eyes and whispered to her posse "Dat chick is more freaky then I thought, yo."

"Well at least I can converse with people without butchering the English language. _Yo,_" I mocked, making a very rude gesture. They glared at me until the leader snapped her fingers and stalked off.

The line to Auntie Anne's was quite long. I was standing there for over ten minutes, feeling as if I was taking up space just staying in line. A lady who was squeezing the life out of her Chihuahua was blocking the whole line. The poor thing looked as if his eyeballs were going to shoot out of his head at any moment.

Suddenly, I felt a movement in my purse. Like something was tugging it as it pulled something out. I was getting pick pocketed!

My hand grabbed the pudgy hand that was digging in my purse. I could feel my nails dig into the thief's hand, possibly drawing blood. Good. I whirled around to snarl at the perpetrator and was faced with a struggling toddler with dark curly hair, a determined look on his face.

His mother stopped chatting with the person next to her, a man with shoulder length blond hair, and spotted her child with his hand still in my purse and my hand crushing his wrist bones.

"No! Emmett, we do not do that to people!" his mother scolded him. She turned to me, her eyes weary. "I'm sorry about that; he gets out of control when he's bored."

"That's all right," I assured her. I glanced down at the incriminating three year old. He pouted at me for spoiling his fun and then stuck his tongue out at his mom.

"Jasper, can you take Emmett to the merry-go-round ride over there?" she asked the man exasperatedly.

Emmett was jumping up and down in his stroller like he was doing a jack hammer impression and screaming, "Yay! The merry-go-'wound! The merry-go-'wound! Daddy, can I ride the purple hosey?" The man picked him up and laughed quietly.

"Yes; we can beat the little girls who want the purple horsy."

"Daddy," Emmett said in disapproval. "You are saying hosey wrong! Are you a gwoan-up or a bee bee?"

The man smiled and just walked off to the mini carousel right next to GAP. I caught myself smiling at the cuteness of it and turned back to the inky haired pixie-like lady in front of me.

"I'm Alice Whitlock," she introduced herself, sticking out her hand. I took it gently, certain that I would break her with any sudden movements. I was taken by complete surprise when she shook it with aggressive enthusiasm.

"Bella Swan," I chattered. Alice was jerking me back and forth.

"I'm sorry that Emmett went through your purse. He is an unpredictable firecracker sometimes." She had such a serious look on her face that I got the feeling that he had done much more worse then attempt to steal. Possibly try to fly by throwing himself off the roof or something.

"That's really okay. It made the wait to buy a simple pretzel much more interesting." I gestured towards the lady who was still debating between salty or cinnamon.

Alice laughed. "But I still feel really bad about all this. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"

"Um. . . . Can you magically speed up the line?" I joked.

"Sorry, I'm only human, not a miracle worker." She smiled. "However. . . . I don't suppose you would mind receiving a psychic reading, would you?"

"A psychic reading? You're a psychic?" I asked, getting excited.

"Yep! I can see the future and all that jazz. So what do you say?"

A chance to explore the occult for free? How could I pass this chance up?!

"Heck yes!" I said. Alice smiled in pleasure.

"Excellent! We can meet up some time. Here's my card." She fished out a hot pink business card with the flashy holographic letters of the stores name, _"Visions and Tealeaves"_.

Just then, the lady with the almost strangled Chihuahua---who was now attempting to chew it's self to freedom---decided on just a small bottle of water and moved on to aggravate the other lines. I saw the sales clerk sigh in relief.

"Well, see you around I guess," I told Alice as I stepped up to place an order.

The dude handed me my cinnamon pretzel and a cup of lemonade without a fight, even though it was pretty obvious I was scaring him out of his wits. I tried to downplay the threatening feeling, but he made it hard not to tease him a bit. It would have been fun to hiss at him and demand that I have a shot of blood in my lemonade. I ordered a second plate of lemonade and a pretzel so I could feed Edward when he came out of the stores.

It was harder then what you'd expect it would be to find a spot that was all to myself, unoccupied and wasn't covered in spat out mall food. Which was pretty much all of them. It was a neck and neck race between the man who had eight chins and had his butt falling over the sides of his chair or the table covered with what looked like spilt Coke. Which one would I sit at?

I suddenly spotted a vacant chair and a clean table; an oasis. Eagerly, I ran towards it, nearly slipping on a slice of pizza that had fallen from a random plate. But I managed to make it to the table unscathed and cheese-free.

I settled down and took a hearty bite of steaming, fresh from the oven cinnamon goodness. The sugary taste cleared my thought process. And I really needed clarity at the moment.

Edward was staying here for as long as I had a broken heart. So. . . . I had to find a loophole in that original plan so I could loose the angel.

It wasn't as if he was a pest. Because he wasn't at all. It had more to do with the fact of explaining why we were living together to other people. My dad wouldn't let "he's my guardian angel and I saved him when he dropped into my car" slide by. He'd kick Edward out on the street just as I had threatened. Or rip off his wings. I shuddered involuntarily.

And then there was my own weakness. Attachment. I couldn't grow attached to Edward at all. Because opening up was something I couldn't afford to do. Not unless I wanted to damage myself further. Because nothing was more true then my motto. Love can hurt you, hate can not.

I was going to have to distance myself from him for my own sake. It was for the best, I assured myself.

But then why was my heart twisting at the thought of ignoring him? Of blocking out the sweet face of some one who finally came and _cared_? I couldn't do that. I couldn't, but I had to. Either way I was going to break. I took a sip of my lemonade glumly.

What would Edward do when he failed his duty? He said that it was a form of judgment, a way to get to either heaven or to hell. But he never mentioned what would happen to the angels who messed up. The hair on my arms began to stand up.

If I . . . pushed him away . . . made him fail . . . would I end up sending him to an eternity of endless punishment? To a place of brutal flames that would scar him, maim him and burn through his flesh?

To hell?

_No_. I had no choice. I couldn't do that to him. I couldn't do that to anyone.

So I truly was stuck with him until I got over myself; or at least until I got over the only other person I had opened up to. My mother. . . . My rainbow.

It wasn't until I had taken a huge bite of my pretzel that I felt a large tear roll down my cheek and land on my hand, making a wet mark. Not at the mall! I groaned and wiped it away quickly, ignoring the serrated edge feeling that dragged against my insides.

To prevent breaking down and causing a spectacle in the food court, I rested my head on the table. Maybe if I pretended I was sleepy, I wouldn't be as noticeable.

"Bella?" A voice called from behind me. I snapped to attention and turned my head around, instantly alert.

It was Edward. I'd recognize that beautiful face anywhere. I blushed and waved my hand over to him so he could sit down with me.

He seemed to float over in my direction, armed with bulging black bags of all three stores. I counted at least eleven bags. HOLY CRAP. HOW MUCH MONEY DID I GIVE HIM, MY LIFE SAVINGS?! I looked in my purse in utter disbelief. No. . . . I only gave him about half a year's worth of my pay from working at Newton's Outfitters.

All the girls, the Chihuahua Woman and even the fat man with his butt attempting to eat the chair stared at him with undeniable lust in their eyes. It reminded me of sharks in frenzy, or wolves sensing an injured rabbit. It seemed as if even though Edward was in dark, tightly fitting Goth clothes, they made an exception of ostracizing him because he was so breathtakingly beautiful.

Geez, how unfair could you get?

He arrived by my side, seeming to be unaware of the expressions of everyone's faces. Or perhaps he had just become used to it and thought it was a custom to drool at people. . . .

"Hello, Bella," he greeted. He placed the bags on the chair next to him, creating a mountain rivaling Mount Saint Helen.

"Hey, Edward. How was shopping?" I asked. I felt my face discretely, searching for any stray drops of water. No need to alert my guardian angel that I was crying.

"It was . . . interesting. I had a slight confusion involving right sizes and such, but other than that I did okay. The salesman helped me out with it. Although he kept trying to get me to buy something called a 'condom'." His brow furrowed as he tried to think what that object could possibly be.

"He had condoms in Hot Topic?" I asked incredulously.

"Yeah; he also kept offering to see if they fit on me."

The lemonade I had been drinking sprayed out of my mouth and landed on the next table. Oh my God. . . . I searched for the guy who worked at Hot Topic and immediately found him. His "Gay Guys Have Feelings Too" shirt stuck out like a sore thumb, and he had such tight pants on that it looked as if they were constricting the life out of him. He was staring at us; lustful towards Edward, jealous towards me. I couldn't believe that a gay dude was working there. When he noticed that Edward was looking at him too, he winked, smacked his behind and crooked his finger towards him while puckering his lips.

Edward turned to me in a flash, looking uncomfortable and fairly sick to his stomach. He anchored his chin in his hands and focused on the sterling silver napkin holder as if it was going to blow up at any moment.

"I'm very glad that I lost my mind reading abilities. I shudder to think what that man had on his mind," he said gravely.

"Mind reading abilities?" I scrutinized him in shock.

"Yeah." He sighed. "Every angel has a specific, individual power. It also tends to vary depending on profession. I was rewarded the strenuously annoying gift of mind reading. I couldn't fly past some of my friends without hearing every little thing they thought. And most of the things they had to say weren't very good. As annoying as it was, listening in on what a person really had to say about a subject, it was pretty useful as well. It let me sort out who was with me or against me. The evil and the good at heart. The demons and the angels.

"But ever since I got to Earth, the first thing I was aware of was that it was unusually quiet. Scary quiet, actually. I felt a moment of unease when I wasn't able to listen to your mind. But now I know that it isn't just you, it's _everyone_. They are all blocked off to me. And I think that's even more infuriating then before."

He stopped, a faintly aggravated expression making a slight crease above one of his eyebrows.

"I can't imagine going through that everyday," I commented. I was in awe of his story, but I disguised it by taking a swig of my lemonade. I suddenly became aware that I had bought him a meal of his own. "Oh! Yeah, this is for you." I pushed the pretzel and the lemonade towards him.

He observed the meal with obvious distaste and suspicion. He poked the pretzel with a stirrer from the bin next to us, as if testing to see if it would spring to life and attack him. And he even _sniffed_ it.

"Oh, come on. It's just a pretzel," I grumbled. "It's perfectly harmless. And so's the lemonade, I assure you."

His eyes darted up apologetically. "We don't eat in purgatory. It isn't necessary, and to be honest, food tastes terrible."

"While you are here on this planet, food is delicious. Within reason. So suck it up and deal with it you big baby." I crossed my arms and glared at him. "I paid for that with whatever money I had left over from your shopping spree. Be grateful."

He pouted but picked it up and deliberately took a bite. His face screwed up like he was about to puke while he was chewing it. But when his underused tongue got used to it, he seemed to enjoy it more. He even tested the lemonade with more confidence.

I watched him in amusement. "Having fun?"

"Alright. You were right. Food can be good." He rolled his eyes.

"So tell me," I began, interested. "What did you buy? Not the condoms, right?" I teased.

"No," he said. He dug around in one of the bags and handed me a white Tim Burton shirt. It was adorable; it had a picture of an Oyster Boy on it with a little poem, '_**Everyone wondered, but no one could tell, when would young Oyster Boy come out of his shell?**_'

"Awh, it's so cute!" I gushed. "I love his big oyster head!"

He smiled. "It was amazing that so many white things could be found in a place so dark. I think I bought the whole selection." He gestured towards the rest of the bags.

I handed him back his brand new shirt. "You wouldn't mind if I . . . ?"

"Go ahead. Knock yourself out."

I grabbed an Infectious Threads bag and pulled out its contents into view. He was right; he _did_ get almost all white clothes. White and black checkered Doc Martins, white and black striped Vincent Vile thermals and ghostly white Tripp pants with silver pinstripes filled the bag to the brim. I even found black and silver eyeliner. After questioning him about this, he said that it was the hottest craze apparently. I couldn't argue; guys were getting into the eyeliner quite a bit lately. And it was really hot, I had to admit.

I ignored the Death Shrouds bags because I was going to avoid the underwear selection at all costs. Instead I focused on just one more bag consisting of band long sleeves. Sioxsie and the Banshees, the Cure, the Damned, Bauhaus, Death Cab For Cutie, Sugarcult and Mayday Parade galore. **(A/N the last three are admittedly not Goth bands, but I love them so oh well lol) **All shockingly stainless white. It was almost shameful. What happened to all the beautiful black clothes? He completely missed the point of dressing like me.

But he would still look fantastic in the clothes I had seen so far. I held up an emerald green choker with a skull pendant. It was the only dark thing about his outfits. Lonely and all by itself; it stood out. And it had to be the prettiest thing in there.

"I like this the best," I commented quietly.

He watched as I stroked the velvet material. "You can have it."

"What?" I asked, shocked. No one had ever given me a real gift aside from my parents. And ever since my mom died I rarely got any.

"Keep it." He looked serious.

"I couldn't! I mean, this is yours," I said guiltily, thrusting it towards him. He pushed my hand away, but kept his hand on top of mine. I felt my face heat up at his touch; cool, hard and smooth. Like a rock getting beat against the oceans waves. And it wasn't just the feel of his hand that got my heart racing either; it was the electric current that passed through my skin, magnetizing me to him.

"Keep it," he murmured softly. I tore my eyes away from our hands and made the mistake of meeting his warm, bottle green gaze. They smoldered. "It would look beautiful on you."

I swear . . . for a moment . . . just the faintest of moments . . . he reminded me of my mother. Those eyes were so impossibly filled with kindness; so warm. Like I had been resting all day in the sunshine. They were just like my mother's chocolate brown ones---deep and forgiving. And also . . . when I looked into them . . . for the first time in what seemed like an eternity . . . I felt like . . . like. . . .

Like somebody loved me.

"Are you going to finish your lemonade?"

That question snapped me out of my daze. I nodded and watched him drink it down, feeling extremely pleased. I had someone who finally wanted me, even if it was to get him a free ticket into heaven. Not someone who could replace my rainbow, but someone who didn't think I was the scum of the Earth and should die.

I felt something brush against my leg in my pocket. Oh, that was right; the business card that Alice had given me. I was sure that Edward would be quite interested in knowing that I had met up with a psychic and was planning on doing so again.

I was opening my mouth when I heard him. I heard the person who made my life suck. The person who detested me with a passion almost as much as I abhorred him. The Evil One. The Jackass. The one, the only. . . .

Mike Newton.

"Hey, look what I found here. A freak!" He jeered at me to Jessica, Lauren and Eric Yorkie, who were accompanying him at his side.

"Dammit. I just can't get a frigging break," I muttered. Edward stiffened as he found the person who had insulted me.

"Come on, lets leave," I hissed. Maybe if we were really subtle, we could slip into the crowds and lose them. Edward shot a quick glare at me and settled into his chair, the picture perfect at-ease stance. Why the hell was I landed with the single most stubborn angel in history?!

"Who's that guy?" he whispered, nodding his head towards Mike, who was making his way towards us with the rest of my torturers following closely behind.

"My pain in the ass," I muttered sourly. My plan involving elaborate matrix moves, bursting through glass windows and ingenious escape tactics evaporated as Mike and his posse reached the table.

"Out in the sunlight? Are you sure you won't burn?" Lauren asked in her nasally voice.

I quickly snapped to a more impassive expression. Showing no emotion at all was the only way to get these losers to go away and leave me the hell alone. It appeared that nobody had noticed the silently fuming Edward as of yet.

"I doubt that miserable clouds blocking out all forms of warmth and light is actually considered sunlight," I said lightly. I watched as her face screwed up in confusion, a perfect copy of Jessica's. They couldn't even understand a simple sentence? They really didn't deserve to uphold the position of teasing me. I would like a fairly intelligent person to do so, if none at all. But I remembered that even if they weren't the smartest, they were ruthless when it came to physical pain. The bruise on my forehead throbbed as I remembered the stone bench incident in the locker room.

"Whatever." Jessica rolled her eyes to make it seem as if she wasn't interested and understood what I had even said. "I see that you weren't thrown hard enough against the floor. You're still spreading your Goth cooties; I think I'm dying." She pantomimed choking and Lauren laughed. Edward looked alarmed when he heard what she had done.

"Promises, promises," I said under my breath. Lauren scrutinized me with her fishy eyes.

That's' when Mike decided he had been ignored long enough. He took the spot light, and began to take over where Lauren had left off. "So what are you doing here, Freak? Haunting the shoppers? Poisoning the food? Or are you selling you body to random people because you're desperate for money?" His eyes darted towards my chest. I gulped.

"Actually, she's on a date."

Shock exploded; particularly from me, the woman who just found out she was having a romantic rendezvous. Everyone spun around to look at Edward, who had finally spoken. He was openly glaring at them all, his smile seeming to promise pain.

I noticed everyone's reactions. Lauren and Jessica had bulging eyes and mouths wide open. They were clearly thinking explicit thoughts. I felt relieved that Edward was shielded from them. But it was slightly insulting too; as if they were shocked that I would be hanging out with a god like him. although I had to agree---I wasn't worthy.

Mike and Eric had amazement on their faces at first, but Mike's suddenly morphed into pure hatred. He was literally _growling_ as Edward and he stared each other down. His blue eyes burned with the need to kill.

Finally, someone spoke up. "Date?!" Jessica squawked. Lauren seemed to be thinking the same thing. Jealously colored Jessica's tone.

"Yes. I'm her boyfriend," he lied silkily. I stared at him in disbelief. I couldn't believe an angel could lie so badly. I mean, really. DATING?!

"You're lying," Mike said. Edward's eyes slit further.

"What makes you say that?"

"Because she likes _me_!" Mike said triumphantly.

I gagged. "Mike, I don't know what fantasy you're living in, but I prefer maggots over a jackass like you, any day."

"Awh, come on. Don't be like that. I know you like me; I've seen it in your eyes. You want me in your bed. I know you do," he smiled lasciviously down on me.

"Mike, that wasn't a look of passion. That was a glare of utmost loathing," I said flatly.

"You don't have to pretend for this creep, Freaky Girl. I know that it would seem a little embarrassing to admit that you find another dude attractive." He put his arm around me and started pulling me up towards him.

"Ew! Get away from me, you bastard!" I tried kneeing him in the groin, but he blocked me and grabbed me closer. Dammit. Trapped.

"Why don't you just stay still, Freak," his hand traveled quickly to my backside. Oh my god. . . . HE WAS GOING TO MOLESTE ME IN A MALL! IN FRONT OF HIS OWN GIRLFRIEND; JESSICA!

"Let go off her," Edward snarled. I struggled against my captor furiously.

Mike laughed and gripped my wrists tighter; although his hand that was going to dip inside my pants stopped just above my waistline. "Or what? What's going to happen if I do, Pretty Boy?"

Dammit! I wasn't strong enough to break free! Tears started to form in my eyes as his grip became unbearable. Bruises would form. I knew it. Everyone in the food court didn't seem to notice that the nobody-girl dressed in all black was about to be scarred for the rest of her life because she was about to be abused.

It happened in what seemed like slow motion. I was vaguely aware that Mike's hand started moving downwards again, brushing across the top of my underwear. Oh god . . . this was it. Tears slid down my face as I braced my self for being molested. The only bright side was that I wasn't getting raped.

But then, out of nowhere, I was knocked to the ground. I laid on the linoleum, looking up at Edward. He was standing up in front of my body, his position screaming 'predator'. His lips were curled back and I heard a ripping, snarling sound coming from his chest. He never looked so inhuman or beautiful.

Mike was hanging by his collar in Edward's hand. He looked completely terrified and close to crying. Good. I stood up gingerly and moved closer to Edward's side.

"_If you_ _ever_," Edward hissed venomously, "_do that to Bella again, I will personally send you to the flaming pits of hell._ _Now go._" He punched him right in the face, letting a sickening crack sound fill the air and then promptly dumped him to the ground. Mike scrambled up and ran like a flash out the double doors, screaming curses behind him as he went. Eric, Jessica and Lauren chased after him, horrified.

I looked around at the rest of the food court. And the strangest thing was, nobody noticed that two boys had just fought, shouted, and a girl was almost sexually assaulted. I couldn't believe that people were such idiots.

"Hey," he said softly. I turned back to him. "I'm sorry about that. But I wasn't going to let him hurt you." He lifted his hand to my face and traced my face with his fingertips. I blushed.

"That's absurd. You shouldn't apologize; you saved me from a torturous experience."

"But I knocked you to the ground," he said sadly. "And if I had stepped in earlier, then this wouldn't have happened." He gently picked up my bruised wrists. "I'm a terrible guardian," he said ruefully.

"No you're not!" I wiggled out of his grasp and grabbed some of the bags. "But can you help me haul the goods into the truck please?"

He blinked. "Yeah, okay." But he smiled. He grabbed the rest of the bags and would have held the ones I was carrying as well if I hadn't stopped him. He wasn't going to do all the work.

The drive home was uneventful. Quiet to a maddening degree, though. Edward didn't say anything at all regarding the incident at the mall, even though I was dying to ask him questions. But seeing his far away expression as he looked out the window at the pouring rain stopped me. He deserved a little alone time to think.

Goodness knows that he deserved so much more then that after he protected me. I smiled all the way home, knowing that I finally had something.

I finally had a best friend.


	6. Exposing the Monster

Bewilderment.

That's all I felt as I opened my watery eyes the next morning. I was lying in my bed with the covers tucked snuggly to my chin. Edward must have put me into bed. . . . I was vaguely aware of falling asleep in his arms. Or was he catching me as I fell down while trying to reach the front door? It had been a long day, so I had every reason to be completely bushed.

Driving rain could be heard from outside my dark curtains. It would be a hellish act to go out there at this moment. No more shopping today, that was for sure—not like I had been planning on more money spending anytime soon.

I searched the room wearily for any sign of Edward. It appeared that he hadn't slept with me last night; the other side of the bed was immaculately made and tidy. But I wouldn't have been surprised if he had cleaned up his tracks after sleeping there. Goodness knows that he did everything perfectly.

My stomach growled, even eclipsing the roar of the water ravaging the house. I had eaten only a pretzel and lemonade for lunch yesterday. I had to be starving by now, and the sharp pains in my stomach confirmed it.

I dressed in a daze, not really caring what I ended up with. The final outcome of my random dresser searching was a black slit-sides long sleeve and a pair of Black Plague capris. I even added a spiked dog collar to throw in some spice.

Overall, not a bad way to greet the rainy day.

I tried my best to ignore the huge bruise on my forehead—not an easy feat to accomplish, considering it was a violently deep shade of purple. A fresh dose of anger shot through my system at Lauren and Jessica. It wasn't good enough to just tease me; they had to deface my body as well.

Somehow I doubted that they would try to pull a stunt like that any time soon. They were probably scared out of their minds after getting acquainted with Edward. My smirk was slipping away when I realized something. I wouldn't have a free pass at all; not until they realized that they were in the clear. Because Edward wasn't going to come to school with me. He couldn't protect me all the time like he seemed to be under the impression he could.

Sighing, I turned out of the room and headed down the hallway, hoping that maybe after eating toaster strudels I would feel less depressed. I was only five feet away from my room when I smelt it---the smell of a stove cooking.

Panic and adrenaline rushed in as I took off to the kitchen. I had somehow set the stove off as I slept! I had rotten luck; I mean, who can make the stove turn itself on its own accord?! Only me, that's who.

I burst through the kitchen doorway like I was Indiana Jones escaping the perils of a two ton boulder. Edward didn't look up from his pan as I clutched my chest, gasping on the floor.

He had on white jeans with bat symbols on the pocket and rips on his knees, exposing delicately pale knee caps. A tight white Tripp vest clutched to his torso to show off a very flattering chest indenture. But what really got me was my Mortricia-style black apron with the saying 'Bite the Cook' tied onto him. (**A/N my friend Kim has complete credit for giving me that idea :)**

A mouth watering aroma rose from the pots he was conjuring food on. Sizzling bacon, eggs benedict, hash browns, buttered toast, sautéed mushrooms, powdered sugar French toast, English muffins and something that smelt suspiciously like fresh oranges coming from a blender were just a few of the scents permeating the room and wreaking havoc on my appetite.

For someone who spent numeral years in a place where no one ate, he was surprisingly an excellent cook. I was betting on a cook book hidden somewhere; or he had lied to me. He certainly had a knack for lying. The irony of that was astounding.

"Good evening, Bella," he chirped. He grabbed the frying pan and flipped the contents onto a huge serving tray. Where had he gotten that?

"Edward, I hate to be the one to point out your mistake, but on Earth people usually greet someone by saying 'good morning' when it is the early day." I watched his hands as they poured out some fresh orange juice into a medieval goblet. Again, he had gotten mysterious silverware. I was pretty sure that that particular cup wasn't in our cabinet—it seemed more likely to be found in an artifact museum.

He laughed, low and musical. "You've been asleep for a long time. It's actually eight o'clock at night."

"Then what are you making breakfast for?"

"Because when you woke up, you'd be hungry. And breakfast is the most important meal of the day." He looked down at the rest of his concoctions simmering on the stove and then looked back up from beneath his long black eyelashes. His eyes smoldered, making my heart sputter. "Now, come here and taste."

I cautiously moved to his side. As I was reaching for a fork to sample what he had made so far, his hand suddenly flashed out like a viper and made the fork disappear.

Before I could say anything in protest, Edward had already speared a piece of French toast.

"Now," he murmured, his emerald eyes absolutely scorching. "Say 'ah'. . . ."

I flushed, but did as instructed. I didn't know what got me more; his sheer beauty or his cooking skills. The French toast was completely fantastic.

"It's good," I admitted. He beamed, dazzling me further and almost causing the food to lodge itself in my windpipe. I coughed hysterically and hacked it up into the garbage. I could see a smile forming on his face from my position near the trash bin. How embarrassing. I stood straight, attempting to adjust to a more dignified pose.

"So, now that you're up. . . ." He trailed off.

"Now that I'm up, what?"

"What do you want to do?"

"Well, I usually watch cartoons on Sunday, but since I was more tired then I thought and slept in until the next night, I guess I'll just have some 'dinner' and see if I can catch a later showing of some anime." I shrugged, and helped myself to a plate.

His brows furrowed. "Ani . . . may?"

I spun around, stunned. "You haven't heard of anime?"

"Nope."

"Then I better show you some Naruto Shippuden, Inuyasha, Chibi Vampire, Blood Plus and Basilisk!" I took my plate into the living room and placed it on the coffee table. After gesturing towards the couch to Edward to tell him to sit down, I dug around the movie shelves for something to show him.

Most of the shelves consisted of my personal favorites; Dracula, the Hunger, Halloween and of course a wide selection of animes.

Finally, I came up with my Naruto Shippuden DVD that I had bid on while it was on eBay. It had taken quite a bit of money—because all those fans wanted to have it and were willing to bid at great amounts to be the winner—but I had finally prevailed above the rest.

I had the most fun watching Edward's expression's during it. He was literally in awe of the animation moving and fighting across the screen. He had seriously never seen this before. Purgatory sounded less and less fun; I mean, no anime?

Although I really could have done without the questions. "What's with that kid's hair? It defies gravity and all the laws of physics! I mean, I've heard of spiky hair, but this is just ridiculously unbelievable—and speaking of unbelievable, what's with Sakura's hair? Did she fall into a cotton candy machine? And that guy—Broccoli—what is the deal with his eyebrows?"

I tried to be patient with the nonbeliever. "Okay; in anime, the law of physics doesn't apply. In fact, it has been broken, mangled, tortured, stuffed in a bag and dumped into a river so many times that it is possibly one of the most cliché things out there to date. That applies to not only body movement, but also hair.

"Sakura has pink hair because the manga-ka thought it would look cool. Unfortunately, it isn't. Not that that stops the enormous rates of fans that get obsessive about it. I am the perfect example of a Naruto lover.

"And for the last time! His name is ROCK LEE. Not 'broccoli'. His eyebrows are slightly freaky, I will admit, but they give him character. So deal with it." I reached the end of my rant and turned the volume up in an attempt to drown out any future questions.

I was pleasantly surprised that I had finished my 'dinner' and the rest of the episode without any interruptions this time. Edward remained quiet all through out the entire thing. I couldn't help but notice that he seemed more interested in the Sand village then I was.

"I think that Gaara is my favorite out of them all," he finally said.

"Gaara? Really? I prefer Tsunade, myself. I like her strength."

"I like Gaara because he had the most personal growth through out the entire thing. He went from being an impassive monster to an impassive protector. And all that changed him into that monster was the way he never fit in. I find his story to be quite sad and touching actually; most of the people in this have astounding depth to them considering that they are two dimensional figures. It makes them seem . . . more real then most people who are alive. Does that make any sense at all?" His eyes looked intense as he looked at me, waiting for my answer.

"That's exactly how I feel about it to tell the truth," I said quietly, embarrassed once more. My plate lay dejected on the coffee table, long forgotten.

He stared at me for an immeasurable length of time. The silence dragged on as we had a blinking contest. The first one to lose focus and blink lost the challenge. That's how I saw it anyway. But it was unbelievably frustrating to stare down an angel with such smoldering forest green eyes. Impossibly deep forest eyes . . . like I could run through the trees in them if I cared to. . . .

I leaned forward subconsciously, unable to help myself. I was so close I could feel his very aura—an electric charged bubble of air around him. Hyperaware of any movement the other one made besides moving forward.

So close that I could see what looked like a glimmer of determination in his eyes. My gaze dropped to his lips, the pale lavender never looking more tempting to taste in my life. We were literally two inches apart from each other now, and with each waking second we inched closer. I closed my eyes almost instinctively; a slow movement because I didn't want to disrupt the smooth pace we were in.

I felt his lips on my forehead. It was a quick little peck, but enough to make my skin burn upon contact. Which really made no sense at all considering the fact that his mouth was so cold.

I opened my eyes in disappointment at the same time as my heart plummeted. I actually thought I was going to get my first ever kiss. Well, I guess I did, but it certainly wasn't up to any expectations I had held.

"Sorry, I couldn't help myself. That bruise was just flaunting itself off and begging to be healed." He grinned sheepishly.

"What?" I felt my forehead to see what had happened. I didn't feel any dull pain as I pressed onto the spot where my bruise was. That couldn't be possible!

I looked over his shoulder at the mirror hanging on the wall. My forehead . . . was completely healed. It was if no huge dark bruise had ever been present in the first place. Like it was all just a bad memory.

He smiled as I gaped at my reflection. "I told you I could heal people. If I had my healing stones I could probably do a better job, but unfortunately I don't. So I had to settle for a simple human trick instead."

"Simple human trick?"

He puckered his lips, searching for the right explanation. "You know how people sometimes kiss cuts and bruises in an attempt to make the pain less bad for a child?"

"What are you saying?" I asked, staring at him through slitted eyes.

He laughed, loud and melodious. "I'm not saying that you're a child; it's just that the tactic used to calm the child down and 'heal' them actually works—if you're an angel, of course."

"Oh." I tried to hide my disappointment.

"So was there anything else you wanted to show me?"

I smiled. I had a vague idea of what would probably hold his interest for a little while. I got up and found the movie easily; it had been one of my favorites for a long time and I always kept it handy when needed.

I settled into the couch as the classical theme played. I had always liked classical music . . . pretty, refined and an ancient (nowadays at least) form of listening entertainment. And the fact that it wasn't mainstream definitely helped matters.

"Edward Scissorhands?" Edward asked, bewildered. The title had just creeped across the screen. I couldn't help but burst out with a snort of laughter as he gave his own hands a once over.

The movie began with the same old grandma and the same little girl always in her bed begging for the same story. I couldn't help but hope that one day when I watched the movie again the story would change slightly. But alas, that's the problem with movies. Nothing changes.

The grandmother's voice was soothing however; it took me off guard just how nice and crackly her voice was. I could feel my eyelids drooping as she droned on and on to the girl. This voice was a sedative to me. Like the flute player making birds drop out of trees, asleep.

I yawned and let my eyes close. Something had to be wrong with me . . . maybe I was sick with a fever or a cold? Or maybe it was because it was at night? Either way, I felt my consciousness slipping away from me with every passing minute, the voices on the television a dull hum, and the glow from the screen fading to black.

I was only vaguely aware that strong, cold arms had woven around me, clutching me to a sweet smelling chest. I just fell asleep on the perfect shoulder, at peace for the first time in a long time.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx the next morning xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Something was stirring under me, rousing me awake. I blinked at the flood of sunlight filling the room. The giant wall length window curtains were wide open, the usual dark red material replaced by lacy white. When the hell had I taken down those curtains and purchased new ones? I could only come up with one person who would have redone the living room deco.

Edward.

I was leaning against his chest on the couch, the TV off and the birds outside chirping. Today had to be quite unusual; it was rarely sunny in Forks. I groaned and looked down at my wrist watch as I straightened up.

Edward was jolted awake when I let out a horror movie worthy scream. I felt bad about disturbing his peaceful rest, but I had a much more drastic problem to worry about.

The fact that I was late to school was certainly my first and primary worry.

"Oh my God! I'm late!" I shot up from the couch, knocking Edward over as I sped to my room to get a set of fresh clothes. I heard a moan echo from the living room as I grabbed a black turtle neck with a Lolita maid skirt.

I was out the door and dressed in a less than five minutes. Edward was watching me at the doorway, confused and looking quite lonesome.

"Watch the house, okay, Edward? Thanks!" I called to him, putting my key in the ignition. I didn't wait for an answer; all I did was peel out of the drive way as soon as my truck roared to life. It was kind of mean to just toss him like that, but I needed to get there quickly or face the wrath of my teacher.

I made it after skirting the slow cars and parking illegally in a handy cap space. I had three minutes and counting to get to class before I was killed by Mr. Banner. As quickly as my combat boots could allow, I stomped up the stone steps to go through the doors. Or at least, I tried to.

"Hey. Freak. Where's your boyfriend?" Lauren sneered behind me. I froze in my tracks and felt my pulse accelerate into overdrive. Not again. I fought down the urge to feel my forehead again, even though I knew the bruise was gone.

I felt a hand punch the top of my spine swiftly. I groaned and sank to my knees, tears starting to form. That was way below the belt; punching the spinal endings was a tactic I saw in a police show when they were arresting criminals.

"Well? Where is he? He isn't going to protect you now is he?" Jessica cackled. I felt water slide down my face as my wrist throbbed painfully. It was still damaged from the time I ran into Mike at the mall.

I grit my teeth and gingerly stood up, wiping away the tears before they could see and get any satisfaction from it. My backpack had fallen down when I had gotten hit. As I reached for it, Lauren's hand darted out and snatched it up.

"You're boyfriend told us that he was only dating you for sex. Now he knows that you won't give him what he wants, and he doesn't want to hang out with you any more. He likes _me_." Jessica smiled, showing off her pointy teeth. Her crone just nodded her head like a bobble figurine.

"Jessica, there would be something seriously wrong with him if he liked you. you have to give him more credit than that. I mean, a weasel like you? You'd probably eat him," I retorted weakly.

Her eyes narrowed. "I may eat him, but at least I won't bore him." She took my backpack from Lauren's eager hands and dumped it over my head, spilling my books and pens all over me. "Go leave this town and die, Freak." She and her friend slapped hands and left me on the steps.

I sniffled unhappily and gathered my fallen school supplies. What the hell did I do to make them attack me? Dress differently? If that was it, then they were the most undeniably bitchy people I had ever met.

The bell rang just as I had assembled all my stuff. This was a sucky day . . . the sunshine had tricked me into thinking that it would be alright.

Sunlight is cruelly deceiving.

I half heartedly trudged up the stairs to homeroom, dreading what horror was to become. Mr. Banner never was the most forgiving teacher when it came to lateness. In fact, he was ruthless. I've been sure that he had troll genes in his blood line for a long time now.

I stopped just outside the classroom, hovering outside the door. Maybe I could just skip this class. . . . I was sure that the teacher wouldn't miss me. I was one of the students who caused problems for him. If only the poor man knew that he had a total witch named Jessica in his classroom.

But perhaps this is what they wanted. To get me into trouble by making my late and forcing me to skip class. If that was the case, they did a very good job of it. I was scared as hell to go in and see what doom was bestowed upon me—cleaning the chalk board with a toothbrush or something along those insanely cruel lines. My fingers weren't up for labor like that.

I pushed aside my fear angrily. Oh heck no; they weren't going to get me too afraid to step in my own classroom. I was going in, whether they liked it or not. I pushed the door open in determination.

Mr. Banner had his back to me, scribbling furiously on the chalk board. Not even the students glanced up at me from their work. I guess I had lucked out!

I slunk over to my desk and sat down, feeling relieved that I hadn't been murdered on the spot. I got out my notebook and started to take my notes like I had been in the room all along.

"Mr. Banner?" Jessica called. Everyone turned to the source of the sudden sound.

"Yes, Ms. Stanley?" He looked at her curiously.

Was I the only one to see an evil smile forming on Jessica's face? Seriously; it was a cross between the Cheshire cat and Satan. The devil kitty.

"Bella came in late!" she tattled.

Mr. Banner shot a look that promised death over at my direction.

"Only because you and Lauren ganged up on me and dumped my backpack!" I spat, flipping her off.

"Ms. Swan! Just because you were too lazy to make it to class on time doesn't give you the right to make up stories about model students!" Mr. Banner was turning purple with rage. You had to be frigging kidding me.

"Mr. Banner! I'm telling the truth! Jessica is evil! EVIL!" I made devil horns with my fingers and put them behind my head to emphasize just how evil she really was. Mr. Banner was unamused with my masterful skills at charades however.

"Ms. Swan, that's enough," he growled. I slunk back in my seat, defeated. "I'm going to have to punish you for coming to class late and then blaming another student for your transgressions."

I gaped at him, flabbergasted. "Are you serious? Mr. Banner, Satan is alive and well in your classroom, and HE'S SITTING RIGHT THERE." I pointed at Jessica. "Look at her! Just slap on a pitch fork, horns and a moustache and it's a perfect likeness!"

"Ms. Swan, that's enough—"

"No way! I'm not stopping until I get my point across!" I snarled. "She has been torturing me all year, and it's about time that someone stopped her."

Jessica's eyes widened innocently. "Mr. Banner, I have no clue what she's talking about!"

So. Apparently I wasn't the only charade master.

I whirled around in my chair to give her the evil eye. "Jessica? You know what you are? The biggest, lying, loathsome bitch in the school. You have been teasing me, torturing me, stalking me and ganging up on me since I first enrolled here," I listed. I was slowly rising out of my seat and inching towards her. Her chubby face looked ashen, but she still tried to hold onto her 'innocence'.

"I never did anything to you! I have only treated you with niceness and respect—"

"You call dubbing me 'Freak' with your lame ass boyfriend respectful?!" I shouted at her. Everyone was looking at me fearfully. But I didn't care. I was ticked off and ready to fight until I died. "You call pushing me into stone benches until I got bruised and cried nice?! You call attacking me in front of the school and then _lying_ about it a good thing to do?!" My voice was edging up several octaves as I started to cry again.

Jessica had no clue what to say. She just opened and closed her mouth wordlessly. The air was stirring with the anticipation of a cat fight. I wasn't going to disappoint anyone.

The room was getting blurry as my angry tears started to blind me. but I could feel everyone staring at me like I was even more of a freak. Oh god. . . . No! I was trying to show them who the real monster was and they still thought I was the bad guy here! they still trusted a total bitch.

They could never trust me. As long as I looked the way I did, I was never going to be accepted in their society. My heart twisted and bent, writhing with the knowledge that no matter what I did, no matter what I said, no matter what my mom had believed. . . . I was going to remain alone for the rest of my life.

I hadn't noticed that my arms had clutched my chest in an attempt to keep me together. Nothing really registered besides feeling angry, pathetic and alone. All I wanted to do was melt into the floor and hope that I died there.

"Geez, she _is_ a freak," Eric muttered next to me.

I lost it. I sank to the floor, crumpling in pain and whimpering. Mom had lied to me . . . she said that all I needed was to be nice and I would get friends. Yeah, well look where that had gotten me, Mom. It got me on the classroom floor while everyone followed Jessica into laughing at me as I lay there. It got me wishing for something to end it all. It got me wishing for death, for pain.

It got me wishing for hell.

But most of all, it got me wishing for her arms around me and her soft voice calming me down. I wanted to see her laugh lined face and the curly spicy brown hair falling onto her shoulders. I wanted to see someone look at me like they wanted me. I wanted her to help me through this, and I wanted it now.

"_Help me_," I whispered into my hands. A sense of déjà vu swept over me. hadn't I said those exact same words when—

The knock on the door was loud enough to be heard over the laughter of the class. Everyone stopped and stared at the door, wanting to know who was ruining their fun at making me miserable. My face was still in my hands; I didn't want to see this person. I was thankful that they had diverted the attention, but I just wanted to die right now.

I heard footsteps and the door opening. It was followed by female gasps and a very irritated Mr. Banner. "Who are you? And why the devil are you dressed like that?"

The person didn't answer. Suddenly, I was lifted up into the arms of someone very strong and cold. Without thinking, I threw my arms around their neck and buried my face in their clothing. The material felt weird. Kind of rubberish, like they were wearing a rain coat or leather or PVC.

"Bella, are you alright?" he asked, smooth and calming. I blinked in utter shock and immediately turned silent. I looked into his face, alarmed.

My ears hadn't deceived me. it was Edward, looking concerned and holding me bridal style in a classroom full of hormonally charged girls and territorial boys. But what got my attention wasn't his presence. It was his clothes.

It wasn't the usual clothes I wore. It wasn't the items I had looked at in the bags.

It looked like he was wearing a white leather bondage uniform. Long leather pants and chain girdles hugged his thighs. A bondage choker was resting right on his Adam's apple, and he was wearing a white fish net shirt. Silver manacle bracelets were slapped onto his wrists.

I blushed furiously. Oh my God. . . . MY GAURIDAN ANGEL WAS DRESSED LIKE A MAN-HOOKER.

I was never letting him dress unsupervised again.

**(A/N okay; Newton is the villain in this. End of story, I don't care if he wasn't evil in the book, he is in this fanfic. Jessica, Lauren and Eric are his followers. Like it or lump it. **

**I went through a stressful time while writing this chapter. My little three year old sister was in the hospital and couldn't breath. So sorry if I seemed like a bitch while explaining evil Mike, but I was going through a breakdown.)**


	7. Believing or Not Believing

My voice came out half strangled by the time I decided to speak. Everyone was staring at the auburn haired hottie holding me in his arms. Although their expressions varied from shock, jealousy, lust and to just plain creeped out. A sea of faces, watching us like we were on stage. But they didn't register completely in my mind.

"Edward?" I said shakily.

"Yes?"

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm in your home room. I just came here to see what it would look like and then I saw you on the ground," he said, glaring at Jessica. She looked away guiltily.

For some reason I had the feeling that his story was a load of crap. Maybe it had something to do with the remarkably accurate timing that I begged for help, but his story seemed well practiced. Like he had rehearsed it before coming here so he wouldn't get in trouble. I raised an eyebrow at him suspiciously.

"Excuse me, I don't know who you are, but you have disrupted my class!" Mr. Banner chose this moment to break up our little reunion.

Edward immediately set me back on my own two feet and snapped into a more authoritative frame. He looked my teacher directly in the eyes before answering, the startling green of his eyes seeming to make Mr. Banner woozy. "Hello, Mr. Banner. This is my new homeroom. I just moved here."

I suddenly noticed a white piece of paper clutched in his hand. He held it up for inspection, letting Mr. Banner snatch it from him. It seemed to pass the test, because he nodded grudgingly at the paper and set it down on his desk.

"Alright," he admitted. "Your story seems to match up. Take a seat in the empty desk next to where Ms. Swan sits. She'll show you the way." He then turned to me. "I shall forget the incident that occurred here; as long as it doesn't repeat itself. Am I absolutely clear?"

I nodded. As he returned to the chalk board, apparently satisfied that I wasn't going to fight anyone, the class broke the silence that had been in the air with a gentle hum of murmurs. Jessica was in a serious discussion with Eric regarding the "hot yet freaky Goth guy". An underused feeling of jealousy shot through me, but I ignored it. People were going to talk about him whether I said anything or not.

I suddenly had a brilliant idea. I walked over to my teacher and dropped my voice so no one could hear what I was saying.

"Mr. Banner, Edward is a friend of the family; is it okay if I take the time of homeroom to show him around the school? I mean, the school is fairly large, and he might get lost. . . ."

Mr. Banner seemed thrilled with the thought of having me leave his classroom and bringing his new, ever-suggestive pupil along as well. He grunted and eagerly handed me a pass. I caught Edward's eye from where he was standing and gestured to follow me out the door.

Jessica's beady little eyes followed his moving form and rested onto me. Something made me think that the hell I went through this morning was only a fraction of what was in store later on.

"Mr. Banner? Can I show our new student around instead? I've been around the school longer then Bella has," she suggested sweetly.

"Yeah, but after all the times you and your crones shoved me in lockers, I know this school inside and out." I didn't try to hide the poison in my voice. She gave me a sour look, which immediately dissipated into an innocent smile when Edward turned around to see who I was talking to.

"No. Sit down, Ms. Stanley," Mr. Banner ordered.

Jessica reluctantly sank back into her seat as I closed the door behind us. I took Edward's hand and led him down the hallway. There was a furious silence on my part, but Edward seemed oddly at ease. I stopped every now and again to see if a room was occupied, and each time I checked, it was. Finally, I was able to secure a broom closet. I shoved him in there roughly, sending him straight into an empty janitor's bucket, and squished myself into the space as best I could.

He got out of his 'chair' and brushed off the seat of his pants.

"Edward," I hissed in the darkness. "What are you doing at my school?!" I reached up and pulled a cord to turn the light bulb on, casting a dim glow over us.

He blinked. "I'm making you happy."

"You call scaring me out of my wits, 'making me happy'?!" I shook him by the shoulders to emphasize how freaked out I was.

"Hey!" He knocked my hands out of the way and held them still. "It was a good thing I even came here! You said the summoning words at a very good time; I heard them the moment I set foot into the building."

"I was going to handle the situation!"

"Bella, you were plummeting into depression."

"I was going to fight her as soon as I got over it!" I argued.

He shook his head disappointedly. "Fighting never resolves anything."

"Oh, that's rich; coming from a guy who punched out Mike Newton."

"That's only because I had to," he pointed out.

"You could have threatened him; violence wasn't necessary."

"He was going to hurt you. I wasn't going to let him get away with just a threat."

"Good point, although I can't see the difference between you punching someone out and me punching someone out."

"I'm your guardian angel and it isn't the other way around." He smiled crookedly, arching an eyebrow. Even though I was in the midst of an argument, I couldn't help but pause and admire his beauty.

"Well . . . alright, you got me there," I muttered, unhappy. "But what's with the sensual get-up? I thought I dropped you off at Hot Topic, not a Whores-R-Us!"

Edward looked down at his ensemble with a confused expression on his face. I myself gave him another once over. His pale skin seemed to illuminate the space we were in, his bright clothes adding to the effect. Although they were made of leather, the tight bondage uniform did look pretty good on him. But the fishnet shirt was a tad too much, I had to admit. If it had been long sleeve and he had worn a black tank top or something, then I'd have been okay with it.

He noticed I was looking at him. "Most of the teachers here gave my tattoos bad looks; were you lying to me when you said they looked good?"

"I doubt that they were staring at them because of the artistic ability; more like the fact that a teenaged student had them in the first place. They were probably wondering if you were a jailbird."

"Oh." He paused. "Well, I can't change right now. I didn't bring any back up clothes. So I guess I'm stuck like this. Not that I really mind—the male Dominatrix look is in, according to the man working at Death Shrouds."

Lesson learned; never take fashion advice from a guy who wants you to model condoms.

"Yeah, but not for _school_!"

"Where could I have worn it then? Church?"

"No," I said quickly. "You wear that outfit when you . . . uh, well, when you . . ."

I couldn't do it. I couldn't tell him that he was wearing a sadomasochist's uniform. I couldn't defile such innocence—who knows? Maybe if I told him what event it was worn to, he would want to go through with it. The thought made me shiver. I had just met him, and doing _that_ at the moment seemed really creepy.

"Just, um . . . never mind," I said. He looked at me quizzically but didn't argue.

"Can I ask you something, Edward?"

"Sure."

"How is it that you were able to cook a prize worthy meal but you decided to wear . . . _that_ to school? And further more, what are you doing here? Besides attempting to make me happy?" I cocked my eyebrow at him.

I was surprised to see a sheepish grin spread across his face. "I cooked that meal with some of my magic. The outfit I did myself. Did you honestly think I could actually _cook_ after I just came from a place where people don't eat?"

"So basically you cheated."

"I wouldn't call using magic cheating, but I didn't do it myself," he admitted. "I used a cooking spell. They are quite easy to memorize. It was a good thing I studied those spells in my purgatory classes." He looked thoughtful. "However I never did pay much attention; if I did I am sure I could have made the food better."

"There are classes in purgatory?" I asked him, bewildered.

"Of course; where do you think we prepare for our jobs?" He looked at me like it was the obvious thing to do. "I already told you that I'm a healing guardian. I also told you about the others. Death is the second most common position to be stuck with. Most of my friends deal in that arena."

I shook my head. "Alright. Let's talk about this some other time. All I really want to know is what possessed you to sneak into my school. How did you get the paperwork? Who's paying tuition?"

He laughed. "I told you that to; it causes pain for me to be away for too long. I don't think I have the stamina to wait several hours for your return. I thought of a plan in only a few seconds. All I did was ask Master to make a few documents, wash a few minds and make me a student. Simple task for him."

I was shocked. "Master? As in, God?"

Edward pursed his lips. "Duh."

"Well excuse me for not being familiar with your angel terms," I said icily.

Outside the confines of the stuffy broom cupboard, a bell rang, signaling the end of home room for the grateful student population. The flow of traffic could be heard all around us as doors opened in the halls and leaked the sounds of chattering and papers fluttering.

"Okay," I said quickly, irritated. "You're stuck here with me now. I have to get to class."

"Excellent; we have all the same classes together. You can show me the way."

Somehow I wasn't surprised that we had matching schedules.

As I opened the door to let us out, I hit someone from behind and made them drop their binder on accident, the contents scattering in random directions. Edward bumped into me when I stopped to look at the unlucky person I had hit, which caused me to temporarily loose balance and land on top of the guy I had slammed with the door.

Blinking wildly, I righted myself and turned away from my victim's face. I couldn't bear to look who ever it was in the eye, I was so embarrassed. "I'm so sorry for that! I really didn't mean to do it; it was a total accident. Here, let me help you." I reached to pick up a few pencils.

A Nike sneaker crushed my wrist as I grabbed the pencil. The sound of a bone cracking reverberated off the walls. Pain ran up my hand and to my shoulder blades. Dammit, my wrist was broken! I bit back tears as I heard an all too familiar voice greet me.

"Fancy meeting you here, Freak," Mike sneered from above.

That's all he got to say before Edward chose this moment to make his presence known. The tears were streaming down my face and onto his shirt and chest as he picked me up and cradled me there.

"That wasn't very nice," he commented woodenly. Mike jumped a little when he noticed who was holding me. He recovered from the shock though.

"Hey! It's you; the dude who punched me in the mall! No one does that and come to this school without getting something back in return. You have a lot of nerve—"

"Just like you have a lot of nerve to attack a girl, I presume?" Edward cut in. Mike's mouth snapped shut, a purple tinge in his face. "I wonder; what man does that to a woman trying to help him out? What man does that to a woman in _any_ situation? A man trying to hide the fact that he's a pathetic sadist, no doubt. Although your actions only prove that you cannot function in society without trying to hurt someone. I think that's how serial killers start out. By any chance, you don't kill animals, do you? Because that's another starting trait to a serial killer's path."

Mike looked dazed as Edward's speech went on. Edward didn't seem to notice that Mike wasn't able to understand anything he said. Or maybe Edward just wanted to preach to him some more. Either way, you could see Mike's brain strain under the pressure of processing too many words at once.

"Listen," he finally said. "Don't you ever refer to Bella as a "freak" again. Or else what I did to you in the mall will only be a small fraction of the pain you will receive." Hid voice was completely serious. He meant it. Hopefully Mike would be able to detect Edward's threat and his truthfulness behind it.

Oh, he found the threat alright.

"Did you just threaten me?" he asked, his eyes slitting.

"I didn't just compliment you on that boil on your nose." Edward rolled his eyes and turned his back on him, carrying me bridal style. "Come on, Bella, let's go and fix up that wrist. It looks serious."

I blinked. Somehow I just realized that I had been so wrapped up in their fight that I didn't pay much attention to my wrist. Maybe breaking it so often had made me immune to too much pain. I didn't protest as he walked with me in his arms however. I liked the feeling of being in them. It was like I was a toddler again, and I very much liked the feeling.

And of course, there was the fact I couldn't argue because his eyes were looking down on me like twinkling emerald stars. That crisp sense again. That cool clover color that made me want to never look at anything again. It made sense he was an angel; those eyes could only ever be holy.

Leaving Mike behind was easy. Over Edward's shoulder, I watched as Mike stood there fuming. It was amusing to see him throw his binder against a classroom door and get dragged inside by a very angry teacher for attempting to damage school property. The look of pure hatred he gave me was we left the hallway I could have done without though. I shivered against Edward's chest, causing him to clutch me closer to his torso in an attempt to warm me.

We were outside the front doors and in the elementary school's playground without any other hassles. No one was around to stop us as we—well, basically Edward—hopped fences and cut through yards to get to a desolate place. And that place just so happened to be an elementary playground. I was shocked no kids were out running around like the little cannibals they acted like.

Edward rested me on the swing, making me loose my very comfortable place against his chest. My hand touched the chains beside me, and I winced. His brow furrowed. I tried to smile at him, but it came out more as a cringe then anything. He turned away from me, crossing his arms and exposing the purple tattoos of his wings on his back.

"I'm sorry, Bella."

I stared at him in disbelief. "Oh, come on! Not this crap again! Listen, Mike's an evil bastard, it has nothing to do with you."

"First off, don't use profanity in front of me. Second of all, yes it is my fault."

"Care to elaborate as to _why_ it is your fault that Mike decided to hurt me today?"

He sighed, completely cheesed off with me. But he did turn around and kneel before me to get eye level at least. "I was right there when it happened. But I didn't stop it from happening. What kind of messed up guardian am I? It makes no sense; I say I'm going to protect you and came to your school to do so. And I can't even stop you from falling. In fact, I caused it."

His fingers traced my wrists, gently as a butterfly's wings. A soft purple glow slid onto my hands as he touched them, the light pinpointing my damaged wrist. It took less then a minute for my wrist to feel refreshed and snap back into place. I shouldn't have been surprised that he could fix me up so quickly by now, but his magic never failed to amaze me.

"Wow," I said. "You should have dropped from the sky sooner. I could have certainly used you before."

He smiled slightly. "It's the least I can do for not protecting you sufficiently. Healing wounds is not my purpose here, but it helps to make you happier I suppose."

"Fixed wrists would make anyone happy."

"True."

"And besides, healing wounds is _exactly_ what you came here to do."

"But I wasn't planning on fixing bones. Just a heart."

"Of course," I said. "Heart surgery is no problem compared to mending a few broken bones."

He smiled crookedly, sending my heart rate into a frantic dance. Geez, how did he do that? Was this just an angel thing, or could a human do this—playing with a person's pulse—too? I hoped that it was just a celestial thing.

"You know what I mean," he said. I tested my wrist by bending it back and forth gingerly. I was pleased to feel fantastic.

"You do marvelous work in the medical field," I commented lightly.

"Thank you. It was my God-given talent."

"It's a shame the talent of common sense wasn't given to you."

He glared. "You should be nicer to me, considering I just helped you out. Besides, I already explained myself to you. I don't need to do so again."

This angel was certainly a stubborn one.

I watched him wearily as he sat down in the sand, not facing me. His pale fingers started drawing designs in the fine grains of rocks, twisting into what seemed to be a female symbol. You know; the one with the shape of a lollypop with a line drawn across it.

"Girl power?" I said to him. He looked up at me, bewildered.

"What?"

"Are you drawing the female symbol in the sand? Because that's what it looks like."

A dull rosy color rose in his cheeks. Even his ears seemed slightly pink. With the sunlight on him, his whole face seemed to glow more then usual.

"No! It was supposed to be an Ankh. I guess I'm not as good an artist as I thought." Edward looked back down on his design, seeming saddened that it didn't come out to be what he wanted.

"That's the farthest thing from an ankle I ever saw," I said.

He burst out laughing, startling me and almost making me fall from my perch on the swing. My eyes narrowed as he began to point at me while laughing. So much for angels being nice.

"It is pronounced "Ankh" not "ankle". It's supposed to symbolize something. Try to guess what it is supposed to mean."

I scrunched up my forehead, thinking. Edward watched me in amusement, chuckling all the while. It was very distracting to think of anything much besides the beautiful god in front of me. His bronze hair blew in the October wind, shining in the Autumn sun. A dull purple haze was almost tangible when he was in the sunlight.

"Before I answer your question, can I ask you one of my own? Are you _glowing_?" I asked.

He looked down at himself, inspecting for anything. He looked confused at first, but then a sudden burst of realization came through. "Oh! So that's what he meant by it! Ra warned me about this. He told me that if you aren't careful this could happen; I didn't believe him."

"Who's Ra?" I asked, puzzled. "Is "Ra" another name for "God"? Is Ra God?"

"What? No, Ra is a friend of mine. He works here to, over a similar case. Except his is slightly different. Anyway, he was here for a while before I came, and he told me about the effect sunlight has on us. Apparently our powers can be seen with a faint glitter, or in my case a glow. Depending on the power exerted, the glow or sparkle is brighter. I guess since bone mending is a skill of mine and I'm used to it, I only used a little bit of power. If I had tried to perform brain surgery, then I would be glowing up a storm right now."

Angels were confusing.

"Isn't Ra an ancient Egyptian god?" I asked.

"Yeah; he was named after the sun god. His mother was into that stuff, I guess." Edward shrugged. "His subject is named kind of like him as well. You might meet her sometime. I think I can arrange a 'coincidental meeting.'" He grinned.

"If she's like Jessica or Lauren, then no way."

"No—Ra's person is . . . just strange," he said slowly. "Stranger then you, to be honest. She works at a psychic shop."

"Does Ra have a specific duty to cure her of heart break, or something else?"

"Yeah; the duty varies from person to guardian. In this particular case, Ra is trying to lead Isis away from her total lack of faith at the moment."

"Again with the Egyptian gods . . . ." I muttered.

He shrugged. "They're connected; just like you and I are. But while I was summoned here with a locket, Ra had a more traditional summoning. He was sent here at the time she needed him most—and had a say in it. I, however, didn't have a choice." He gave me a pained smile.

"I'm so sorry you don't want to be here with me," I said flatly.

"It's not like that; it's just, if I had it my way, I would have come down here to look over you without getting noticed. But falling from the sky and into cars _does_ tend to get a few looks."

"So this girl—Isis—has no clue that she is getting stalked by a guardian angel?" The thought made me shiver. I liked the idea of knowing Edward existed. It made me more aware of where I placed my bras now. I didn't feel like explaining their purpose anytime soon to him.

"The word 'stalked' is a bit harsh. We prefer the term 'looking out for'. But yes, Ra is looking over Isis right now. She is wavering in her beliefs at the moment and is starting to turn into an atheist. Ra is trying to make her happy enough to see reason and actually believe in something."

"Well that sucks," I snapped. "So if you don't believe in God, he sends his minions down here to 'make you see the light'? Well here's something you should know, Edward. _I don't believe in God,"_ I hissed in his face.

The only thing that I could see was his face explode in alarm at my words. He seriously looked as if someone had just slapped him. I felt a twinge somewhere in my chest for hurting him, but I got over it. Sure, he was my best friend, but he was not going to make me believe in some old dude who stares down at you from the sky.

"You realize," he said eventually, "that you're talking to an _angel, _right?"

"I believe in many things—Aliens, vampires, werewolves and now even angels—but God isn't one of them."

I had expected him to look furious. Maybe even horrified or sad. But what I had _not_ expected was for him to break out in a naughty looking grin, like he just got an idea.

"I think I know of a way for you to meet both Ra and Isis, _and _get a little belief in your system," Edward said smoothly, not looking anywhere besides my eyes.

"Really?" My skepticism was heavily pronounced. "And how would that be?"

"That depends. What are your views on flying?"


	8. Falling For Someone

I blinked, taken aback by his question. Edward just looked at me patiently, waiting for my answer.

"Flying?" I asked uncertainly. "Uh, I can't fly. And I doubt that God is going to give me the ability to do so if I ask for it."

He rolled his eyes.

"I wasn't suggesting for you to fly solo; I was asking if you wanted me to give you a free flight."

"But you don't have wings anymore. You traded them in for tattoos, remember?" I pointed out.

"That's a temporary thing. If I retracted my wings in the first place, then it would be reasonable to think I could extract them, too," he said simply. "Such as if I wanted to fly upon occasion. So let's go. I can show you Isis and Ra, get you to believe in God, and possibly boost your happiness in one swoop."

I was shaking my head before he even finished his speech.

"Edward; think about it. How do you think people would react if they saw someone _flying through the air_?"

"Oh." His face fell, disappointed. "I guess you're right . . . I just really wanted you to come flying with me."

My heart felt a little stab of guilt. I didn't like doing this to him, but someone had to point out the flaws of the plan before jumping out and doing something rash. Someone had to be responsible.

My eyes focused on the sand, allowing me to think awhile in silence.

Happy. Edward wanted me to be happy; he kept saying this over and over again. But is there really a thing called happiness? People got in better moods and then got pessimistic all over again. Who's to say that as soon as he left, I would be back to my lonely self again? Or maybe even worse. . . .

But that phrase. 'Be happy'. I liked it a lot, despite myself. I genuinely wanted to be happier about this and go on with life, but with that phrase came a memory of my mother . . . a few days before she died. It was a stupid memory really, but she called and told me to be happy because I had recently been down in the dumps over loosing my favorite CD at school.

'_Be happy. Life goes on. It is time to focus on more important things that will actually help you.'_

I smiled to myself sadly. How can I be happy without the one person who I depended on?

"Hey," Edward said softly. "Are you alright?" He picked up my chin with his finger to look me in the face. Hid perfect face seemed concerned. "What are you thinking of? You seemed really deep in thought."

"Well," I said. "Happiness isn't permanent."

He didn't miss that what I said wasn't a question.

"Happiness isn't permanent," he agreed. "But strangely enough, just small amounts of it can make the pain seem as if it wasn't as bad. I'm not saying that you won't be able to feel no pain from it at all, but . . ." He rested his cheek on the top of my head and pulled me closer. "With happiness at least the pain doesn't hit as hard as the first time."

I nodded and backed away from him a little. "Very wise, coming from a guy who wears leather pants to school."

"Hey, the rest of the female populace didn't seem to mind," he sniffed.

I laughed. "I'm sure they didn't. Now how about this; we can visit Ra and Isis, but only if we take the bus, okay? I left my car back at the school, and I don't want to get dragged back inside by security."

Edward looked shocked. "We were supposed to stay in there?"

"That was the general idea."

"Maybe we should go back . . ." He bit his lip. "I don't want you to get in trouble."

I rolled my eyes. "Trouble finds me wherever I go. I'm more interested in getting my tealeaves read to me then some ancient social studies text book. Come on."

He sighed, but came with me without a fight. I was already at the bus stop—ignoring the passing looks I got from random people, as always—before he actually said anything else.

"It feels as if I'm carrying a sign around that says 'LOOK AT ME'," Edward commented when he took notice to a group of old ladies ogling at us both, completely awestruck that we would walk around in the daylight.

I laughed bitterly. "You aren't wearing all black; now if you actually wanted to be like me and see what it was like, then you would have worn _that_ color. They can't seem to stop looking at me when I go out. But you learn to ignore it, don't worry. However the comments I sometimes get. . . ." I cringed. "Those aren't so easy to ignore."

His green eyes flashed angrily. "What comments?"

"The usual; 'are you a vampire?' stuff."

It was silent for a while after that, and we just stood there at the curb with the old ladies, waiting for the bus to drive up. Every now and again I would sneak a peek at him from the corner of my eye, trying to guess what he would do next. I was quickly learning that he was very unpredictable and should always be supervised.

"Hey Edward?" I asked quietly.

"Hmmm?" He glanced at me, seeming to have been pulled out of a train of thought.

"Where exactly are we going?"

There was a pause. "I believe it was a psychic shop in Port Angelus; called _"Visions and Tealeaves"_."

I gasped. "Wait a second! I know that place! A woman gave me a business card! It's in my purse, I think . . ." I fumbled with the clasp excitedly, happy that I had more of a clue as to our destination. After knocking aside a bottle of black nail polish and some Bloody Mary lipstick, I detected the only thing hot pink in the bag. I handed him the business card proudly.

"Yep. This is the place," he said after inspecting it.

The bus came to a screech in front of us, startling me. I jumped and caught my heel in the sidewalk, falling towards the muddy road. I gasped, pulling my arms up and bracing for impact. Familiar stone arms wrapped around my middle and secured me into an upright position.

"Phew!" I grasped my chest, which was heaving up and down. "Thanks. I owe you one."

He smiled crookedly, dazzling me once again. "No problem. You don't have to do anything in return for me." His eyes smoldered, sending my heart into erratic beats. "I like protecting you anyways."

"O-oh . . ." I stuttered. My face was burning red, I could tell. Edward raised an eyebrow and looked at me quizzically as I turned a color resembling my truck. Thank goodness the bus chose this moment to drive up. I wasn't eager to answer any questions he may have had regarding my sudden blood rush.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was amusing at first to watch Edward stare out the window in amazement as everything rushed by, but then it got tiresome. You have no idea how boring it can get when you have to deal with a man who practically jumps for joy when he sees a squirrel climbing a tree. But sight seeing was the last of what I was getting annoyed about.

"Edward!" I hissed. "Stop waving at all the people we pass!"

"But why?" he asked, dropping his hand. The collage girls who he had been waving at were giggling amongst themselves. Our bus was at a stoplight, and Edward had taken advantage of its cease motion and passed the time by greeting everyone.

"Because it's weird!"

He pouted. "I'm just being nice."

"There's a time to be creepy, and there's a time to be nice. You were being creepy just now."

"I was only saying hello!" he argued, indignant.

I rolled my eyes. "Say hello to people you know from now on."

"That limits me basically to you and Ra, you know."

"I know." I slumped back in my seat, crossing my arms grumpily. I didn't like to admit it, but I didn't like the idea of collage girls—or any type of girls for that matter—getting a 'hi' from him. He was too good for them anyway. What gave them the right to even have a moment of his time? He was mine, not anyone else's. No one could have this sweet angel except for me.

No. I mentally kicked myself for thinking like that. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid . . . I closed my eyes and rested my head back on my seat. It was stupid to think like that. Edward didn't belong to anybody, least of all me. In fact, Edward was only with me in the first place to get himself into heaven. If he had had a choice, he'd have never chosen to be in my presence. I was fouling up his perfection and yet he didn't seem to mind in the slightest.

Predictably, I felt tears start to form at the corners of my eyes. I sniffed and wiped away the possible water before it could spill over and alert Edward. It was bad enough he had to deal with me on a regular basis, but he really shouldn't have a crying girl on his hands.

Unfortunately, I wasn't able to catch one small drop of water that slid down my cheek. I thought I had gotten rid of any chance of crying, but this one had sneaked around my defenses.

One long, pale finger caught it for me, though. It was soft against my face as it wiped away my tear gently. The trail of the tear was gone and replaced by a much hotter trail in wake of the finger.

I watched in fascination as Edward looked down at his finger, as if deciding what to do with it. He then placed the tip of it—the part still wet from my crying—to his lips and tasted the salty water. His eyes were locked with mine as he sucked softly. I could feel my face heat up again . . . it was slightly erotic the way he was doing that . . . I felt the most insane urge to suck on one of his fingers too. They seemed so delicate and nice. . . .

"Sadness tastes like salt," he noted.

It took me a little while to process what he was saying, my mind still wandering back to the way his mouth looked so nice when it was puckered up. "Uh, it does?"

"Yes. You just made sadness."

I shook my head. "I didn't make sadness and you didn't taste it; you tasted tear water."

"And isn't tears a way that humans express depression?" he pointed out.

"Yeah," I admitted. "I guess it is."

He smiled, satisfied with my answer. "So I tasted sadness." His cool springtime eyes suddenly went from carefree to sympathetic. "Can you tell me what you were sad about?"

I hesitated. I didn't want to keep anything from him, but I wasn't about to admit that I had been trying because I was being stupid. And that the topic of my stupidity had been centered on him.

"No; it was nothing," I finally settled for.

"Nothing made you cry?" He sounded skeptical.

"It wasn't _nothing_," I said grudgingly. "It's just that some things I would rather keep to myself."

He groaned, resting the side of his head on the window. "I'm never going to break through to you, am I?"

I turned to him, shocked that he would say that. "What? Of course you will."

"Then why is it you won't tell me what made you upset? If I don't know what the problem was, I can't help you!" he said, frustrated. The sunlight was shrinking away outside, replacing itself with the usual muggy dark gray. A few rain drops hit the window pane, promising much more water later on.

"There are some things that are very personal to me, Edward," I muttered. The atmosphere was starting to get nippy, so I shrugged into my black Escape the Fate bomber jacket.

"That's the thing!" He glared. "I wish that I could read minds again. I also wish I could know what you were thinking; it would make everything so much more easier."

"I don't think you'd like it if I told you," I whispered. I watched my shoes, not daring to look him right in the face. When I eventually did look back at him, his face was soft.

"Try me," he pleaded.

I shook my head. "It's too embarrassing."

"This is amazingly frustrating, you know." His voice was souring again.

"Well I'm glad you can't read my mind," I said. "Who knows what you might hear?"

There was a thoughtful pause. "Something interesting, I'd imagine. Whatever it is that you're trying to hide, I _will_ find out somehow," he warned me.

I sighed. "Fine. I'll tell you."

He waited expectedly.

"It really was a dumb thing to do, but I cried because . . ." I bit my lip, not ready to say anything else. "I was crying because . . . well . . ."

"'Well' what?"

"If you had been a human, would you have hung out with me? Forget the fact that making me happy gets you into heaven. If you weren't an—" I looked around for any eavesdroppers before continuing, "—angel, would you still want to be my friend?"

"Yes!" He looked taken aback at the thought. "Of course! What would make you think otherwise?"

"I don't know. Just a thought, I guess . . ."

"Well stop thinking such absurd thoughts! As if I would ever leave such a nice girl like you!" he said, starting to get angry. "Just what do you think I am? The village idiot? As if! Why would I ever want to _not_ spend my time with you?"

"Why would you _want_ to in the first place?" I asked, startled by his outburst.

"Who wouldn't want to be friends with a funny, sweet, beautiful girl like you?"

My mouth gaped open. "Okay, now I know that you're kidding around with me; I'm as plain as a blank paper. Did falling from the sky impair your vision?" I demanded.

"My eye sight is fine, thank you. You just don't see yourself clearly; it may be because of all the stuff you had to deal with before I came here. Well, guess what?" He leaned forward, smiling his special crooked smile at me. When he talked, his sweet breath blew into my face, making my head swim. "Now that I've come to you, you won't be misinformed about your gorgeousness again."

I blinked, turning away from him. I couldn't even look him straight in the face anymore; my own face was flustered.

Because how can an _angel_ think a monster was cute, let alone gorgeous?

Edward wasn't letting me get away from him that easy. A strong hand pulled me against his shoulder, holding me there. I froze instinctively, my breath caught in my throat. The sound of his heart pumping was faint, but I could hear it beating. It was as quickly paced as mine was; perhaps not as drastic though, considering the fact that my pulse was attempting to mimic a hummingbird.

He rested the side of his face on the top of my head. "You seemed cold. Body heat warms people up, right?"

"Yeah, it does," I whispered, snuggling closer. His hand tightened only the tiniest bit around my arm, and his fingers traced designs on the top of my hand. My blood rushed even faster. It was silent for what seemed like an eternity, with us just listening to the sound of the pouring rain and the motor of the bus. Relaxing and peaceful, I couldn't help but think that I didn't want to be anyplace but here at the moment.

His voice was quiet, but with an edge of an urgent curiosity to it as he began to say something else. "Bella? Have you ever been in—"

Suddenly, the bus came screeching to an unexpected halt, sending my purse soaring through the air in what seemed like slow motion. The driver and I watched in horror as my purse began opening in mid-flight, showering the occupants of the bus with its contents. A little baby with a teething ring got my tube of black lipstick, banging it against the metal of the seat.

"I'm sorry!" I apologized to everyone. That was only a few people; the two old ladies that had been with us at the bus stop, the frizzy haired mother with her baby, a hippie dude listening to his ipod and not paying attention, and then the bus driver.

Edward helped me gather my items—embarrassing me to no end when he picked up a tampon—and made sure my purse was securely fastened this time. The driver let us off outside the shop. Just when I was about to pay him, he stopped me.

"No; that's okay. I don't need circus performers' money," he teased, glancing at our outfits contemptuously. I was about to retort angrily at him for saying that, but he was pulling out of the road before I could say anything, laughing loudly along with the two old ladies.

"Bastard," I hissed under my breath. Edward heard me anyway.

"Bella! Such language! A girl shouldn't be cursing! It's not right." He wagged a finger at me.

I pushed his finger away. "I don't know what century you were born in, but in this one, girls curse. So you better get used to it." I turned away from him and focused on the building in front of us. A hot pink neon sign displayed the words "_Visions and Tealeaves_" proudly. There was a dark book case filled with ancient looking texts on pentagrams at the window display, next to a pile of tarot cards and a Tree of Life tapestry.

"Oh my Goddess! This is so cool!" I squealed, rushing up to tap on the glass and get a better look. Edward came with me reluctantly, looking at the store in disgust and unhidden disdain.

" ' Oh my Goddess'?" he asked in disbelief.

I glared at him. "Hello? I'm more Wiccan then Catholic, and I believe in a goddess and a god. Just not _your_ God." I sniffed. "I'd like to believe in a more feminine appreciative religion." And with that, I flounced right into Visions and Tealeaves.

I wasn't sure what hit me first, the overwhelming smell of frankincense, or the dim light of the psychic shop. Big, dark bookcases loomed high overhead, filled with titles such as 'The Psychic Healing Book', 'Wicca: a Guide for the Solitary Practitioner', and 'The Witches Handbook; a Complete Wiccan Hand Guide'. I could feel Edward stiffen next to me as he followed, his displeasure of being here almost tangible.

I pointedly ignored him as I inspected the pentagram necklaces they had on sale in the display. I never knew that such a fun little store was in the limits of Forks; if I had I would have definitely visited sooner.

"Can I help you?"

I whirled around to face a girl about my height, near her twenties. She had dark brown hair that curled at the tips, and from what I could see from the small amount of light the candles provided, her hair had a little red in it. Her dark brown eyes were framed with baby doll black eyelashes, looking at me curiously. Her bangs were long and curled upwards and wispy as well. She was wearing a dark purple Victorian style gown, lace up corset top and all. A headband was wrapped in a gypsy-like fashion in her hair, and silver moon earrings dangled from her ears.

"Uh . . . yes! I'm looking for Alice?" I finally said, snapping out of my daze. The girl had known that I had been staring at her and her light brown skin was turning a rusty red color, kind of like my own blush.

"Yeah; Alice went for a slight shopping spree," the girl said apologetically. I detected a soft southern accent. "I don't think she's coming back for a little while. I'm Isis." She smiled and stuck her hand out for me to shake.

Edward chose this moment to have his presence known. He stepped out of the dark shadow he had been hiding in and came forward so she could see. Isis gasped, and jumped up a little. I hit his arm lightly.

"Don't scare her, Edward."

"Not my fault," he said, unabashed.

"You could have made a less startling entry."

"It isn't my fault if you two are exceptionally unobservant."

"Unobservant?! Take that back."

"You can't pay attention when a guy is behind you? I'm not taking anything back until you learn not to leave your back unguarded."

Isis watched us argue, her eyes not giving anything but polite disinterest away. Finally, after hearing us go on a little bit more, she decided to step in.

"Tell me; how old are you?"

"I'm seventeen."

"Would you like a job here someday? You seem as if you might be into this stuff."

I gaped, taken aback. "Uh, I would, but I already have a job at Newton's Outfitters. . . ."

Isis seemed a little saddened to hear that. "Oh."

"But maybe when I get the chance I can come over here more often," I amended. Her face lit up. "I just need to see Alice."

"Maybe I could give Alice a call so she could come here faster. She is a wiz at the crystal ball," Isis complimented. Then she cringed. "I, however, am still a trainee. I can only see into the future when I dream." She shrugged. "Unless you want to wait around until I fall asleep, I think calling Alice to come and do your fortune is easier."

I couldn't help but notice that Edward stiffened at the sound of the words 'fortune' and 'crystal ball'. His lips fell into a hard line.

I placed a hand over Edward's mouth so he couldn't say anything. "That sounds great. My name is Bella, by the way."

She smiled again, picking up a black, old fashioned telephone that was on the counter. As she dialed what I supposed was Alice's cell phone, I noticed that she had a mood ring on her finger. Isis mouthed 'give me a minute' and walked into the store room with the telephone in tow, going through a door of beads.

Edward pulled my hand away from my mouth and gasped for air. "Finally! I was about to tell you something important; I never thought she'd leave."

"What was so important that you decided to give her a heart attack?" I demanded.

"I think he meant me as being important," a soft voice called from behind me. I spun around, my pulse quickening. Someone I was totally unprepared to see was looking straight into my face with a small smile on his lips. I had to strain my neck muscles to look up to him—he was about two feet taller then me.

"I'm Ra," he explained. I nodded, still shocked.

Ra had obviously not been an angel too long; while Edward had an almost old fashioned air about him, Ra was totally twenty first century. He had silky black hair cut into an emo-like hair cut, black, tight jeans and a Cure tee shirt on that clung from his slim shoulders. I noticed that he was just as pale as Edward was, and just as beautiful too. He even had shimmering green eyes like him. But they were very different from each other when it came to a certain physical difference; silvery wings were resting lazily on Ra's back, the bottom feathers grazing the hard wood floor.

"Hey, it's good to see you," Edward said smoothly, stepping in between me and his friend. His smile was relaxed, but his shoulders weren't.

Ra laughed. "We only got separated for little over a month. But it is really good to see you too." He reached over and playfully nudged Edward in the arm. "So what have you been up to? You're subject can obviously see you, so that must make things more easy for you." I detected an unidentifiable edge to his voice.

Edward shrugged. "It isn't as lonely, I admit. But there are times when I think that I would prefer the old fashioned way."

Ra's smile seemed a little forced. "Yeah, the old fashioned way is the best. . . ."

"I came here to introduce you to Bella," Edward purred. He moved a little to the side, allowing me to peek out from behind him and wave shyly at his friend. Ra grinned as I blushed a shade deeper.

"Isis seemed nice," I said. He nodded proudly.

"She's as good as they get! Smart, beautiful, dreamy . . . ." The sound of something crashing in the store room and Isis yelping in surprise cut him off. Ra winced. "And slightly clumsy, I'll admit."

Edward chuckled. "She sounds like Bella."

I hit his arm, much harder then Ra did before. He just smiled in response.

"So tell me; how's the job going so far? No slip ups or accidents?" He asked.

Ra's face suddenly went grumpy. "Apart from the total lack of faith in God she has? Yeah, we're just peachy keen here. I'm trying my best to get her out of this . . . _witchcraft_," he spit the word, "but the more I hide her stuff around the house, the more she buys it! She thinks her cat hides her books; it's wonderful to blame what I can on that creature. That cat doesn't like me much; it might not be able to see me, but it can sense me just fine."

"You don't have that much good luck with animals?" I asked.

"Actually, I have great luck with them. It's just that this cat is a witch's cat." Ra looked at Edward darkly. "And we all know how nasty witch's cats can be."

Edward nodded. "Rude as there ever was."

I rolled my eyes. Superstitious angels . . .

"Although, I keep myself busy here," Ra said lightly. "I flip through the books and the artwork and stuff. It's kind of interesting, to be honest. There are even a few texts on guardian angels." He smiled slyly. "And guess who was in there, first and foremost?"

"Who?" Edward asked, sounding as if he already knew the answer, but was hoping it wouldn't be what he thought it was.

"Gabriel."

"_Of course_," Edward murmured unhappily. "Why people idolize that bird brained jerk, I'll never comprehend."

"Edward!" I said, shocked. He growled, scowling at the ceiling.

"I take it he doesn't like Gabriel?" I asked Ra.

"No, he doesn't at all. Good ol' Gabe was the one who taught us at Angel Academy, right Edward?"

Edward muttered something indistinct about stupid old farts with no sense of humor.

"Professor Gabriel failed him in Love Spell class," Ra explained. "Edward had been a straight A student before he crossed paths with love spells. They had never been his strong point. He was top of the class when it came to Healing Charms, though.

"When he got his first F from Professor Gabriel, Edward vowed that he would take revenge." Ra smiled as if he was remembering a fond memory. "So he came up with this plan to concoct a wickedly strong love potion and spike the prof's drink when he wasn't looking."

I turned to gawk at Edward—who was blushing a dull pink—and raised an eyebrow. "Wild thing, weren't you?"

He blushed darker.

"Except things turned out really bad, really fast," Ra continued. "Our teacher _did_ end up sipping the love potion, but ended up attacking and attempting to rape our Healing teacher, Professor Raphael."

"How could he have sipped it? Purgatory doesn't have drinks to slip anything into," I said, bewildered.

"You know; I never knew how I was able to accomplish it," Edward said thoughtfully. "I guess Gabriel was just an idiot or something."

Ra nodded solemnly. "But Edward had the worst end of the stick. He was walking on thin ice ever since the attempted rape incident. Professor Gabriel was always weary when he passed by him from then on. Always looking over his shoulder and twitching like mad."

"Geez, you really scared the poor dude out of his wits!" I scolded.

"I regret nothing." Edward crossed his arms stubbornly.

Isis came out of the backroom, the phone put away somewhere, and a huge book in her arms. Ra immediately snapped to attention, stepping aside for her to pass him. His eyes looked her up and down slowly, trying to make sure she hadn't hurt herself in any way. It was obvious he was concerned. What girl wouldn't like that in a boyfriend? My heart melted a little for him.

Isis didn't notice.

"Alice said to try and wait around for her to get here," she informed me. "She'll be back in around an hour. Please, make yourself comfortable. There are two chairs in the backroom." She gestured behind her towards the door with the dark purple beads. Edward and I ducked inside, closely followed by Isis and her unnoticed angel.

The backroom was well lit with a cheery fireplace in the corner. A tank of angel fish sat on a low coffee table, the fish swimming around in circles inside of it. There was an over stuffed arm chair the color of fresh coffee placed behind a rounded table, an aged off-white linen cloth draped over it. An ominous crystal ball sat perched on top of it, beside the tarot cards that were scattered as if they were about to be played.

Edward and I sat in the two hands shaped as chairs, on opposite sides of the circle table. While I must have looked quite happy, sitting among the magical setting, he and Ra were quite unhappy. Ra fluffed his wings in agitation when Isis unearthed a book the width of my waist.

"I'm trying to study," she explained when she noticed that I was looking at her book. "I have to become a great psychic someday, just like Alice. She makes it look so easy." She sighed. "But she seems to believe I have what it takes to see into the future. I've already been able to determine what type of Wiccan herb a person is most compatible with. Want me to tell you yours?"

"Uh . . . okay." I nodded. She took me by the hand and sat down in the arm chair next to me. For a small moment, every sound in the room vanished. All that existed in that warm little room was Isis's deep eyes boring into my own, and the uncomfortable feeling of being placed under a microscope. But it didn't last too long.

She backed away, looking proud. "You're herb is white willow bark. That ingredient is used in—"

"Love, divination, protection and healing spells. You can carry and use that ingredient in spells to attract love. Use the leaves, bark and wood in healing spells. You burn it with sandalwood to conjure spirits. It brings blessings of the moon into ones life. The element it is a part of is water," Edward recited in monotone.

Isis and I stared at him, blown away. "Are you a psychic too, sir?" Isis whispered in awe. He grunted.

"No, he isn't a psychic," I said, smiling. "He's just a very well practiced Wiccan man. Isn't that right, Edward?"

He shot me a withering glare, but very grudgingly nodded. Isis seemed to accept that.

"Well, I'm sorry if I am going to seem rude when I do this, but I really have to study," she said apologetically.

"Oh, no; you go on and study away! We won't be any trouble," I promised. She smiled and walked away to a corner, turning her attention on the monster book again and allowing me and Edward to have a whispered discussion.

"Wiccan?" he muttered. "Yeah, I really am a witch; don't let the wings fool you, I ride around on a broomstick in my spare time."

"How else was I supposed to explain how you knew about Wiccan herbs?!" I hissed. "I myself would like to know the answer to that one!"

Ra decided to take this moment to sit down in the arm chair Isis had abandoned. He made sure that she was safe and sound sitting in her own little world before he spoke. "He knew about them because we used them in our potions and charms and stuff. We used white willow bark, hibiscus flowers, hyssop, passion flower, Queen of Meadow, sandalwood, spearmint, thyme, yerba mate, and Edward's personal favorite," Ra grinned, "amaranth flowers."

"We used them to get to sleep easier," Edward explained. "I could hardly sleep on my own, what with this idiot snoring." He gestured to Ra, who was smiling as if he had just won a diploma.

"Okay; Now I'm confused," I admitted. "You can't eat or feel the weather in purgatory, but you can sleep? How does that tie in to all of your crazy physics?"

"I don't know; it just is." He shrugged. Suddenly, his face became very distressed. "Hey, Ra? Your powers are still working, right? As in the animal perceptive abilities?"

Ra looked confused. "Yeah? What of it?"

"I can't read minds anymore. Ever since I first came to Earth, I couldn't read any thoughts," Edward confessed. "But if you can still speak to animals, maybe it's just me who is going through this?"

"Yeah . . . I think it is just you. I'm the same as always, just . . ." Ra looked over in Isis's direction and a dull rosy color came to his cheeks. "I'm just a little more different from when I was before," he whispered. He began to play with the tarot cards absentmindedly.

"That isn't good," Edward moaned. "If I'm the only one going through this, then there can't be a cure for what I'm going through! Do you know how much I relied on that extra sense for a feeling of balance? Mind reading would definitely be a blessing to have, considering my guardianship and all."

Ra sighed. "I have a theory behind your disappearing powers." He continued to fiddle around with the tarot cards in his hands. "I remember reading a story in one of the books here. There was an angel who gave up his personal power to be more normal for the human he had fallen in love with."

Edward shook his head. "I had just met her and I wasn't able to read a thing. There must be another explanation."

"You've heard of love at first sight, right? Maybe you're in love with Bella and don't know it yet." Ra smiled widely, winking at us and wiggling his eyebrows.

I laughed. "Don't be ridiculous. Love at first sight doesn't happen; you get attracted to someone and then you fall in love. That love at first sight stuff is just gooey crap you find in romance novels."

Edward said nothing. Instead, he was staring into the crystal ball in front of him, deep in thought about something. There was a small indentation above one of his eyebrows that he seemed unaware of.

"I wouldn't be so sure," Ra muttered, still inspecting the cards.

"Can angels really fall in love?" I asked. "I know they spread love and cheer, but what about falling in love themselves?"

Ra finally looked up from the tarot deck he was shuffling and glanced at Isis. Something about the way he looked at her . . . it made me feel as if I was intruding on something very endearing and private. Like I was watching a love scene, actually. There was something odd about the way his eyes—as emerald as Edward's—took in her form as she read her thick, leather-bound book.

"Yes. I truly do believe that angels can fall in love with someone. If vampires and werewolves can, who's to say that angels can't? And besides," he said quietly. "If we couldn't find our soul mate while we had been alive, maybe our soul mate was waiting for us in the future."

There was a loud slam of a door, the sound of quick footsteps and finally the exploding sound of Alice Whitlock popping into the room from the beaded doorway. Her inky hair was spiked all over the place as usual and she was wearing an Abercrombie and Fitch original.

"Sorry I'm late!" she said as she threw her Gucci bag over to Isis, who dived for it and ditched her book. Ra grabbed her around the waist and took away some of the impact as she fell. "There was a sale that I couldn't resist! Oh, speaking of that." She turned to Isis, who was starting to dust herself off. "I have a bag of supplies in the trunk; get them for me, would you?"

"Yes, mam!" She said, jumping to salute. She was rushing out the door with Ra hot on her heels in a split second.

Alice turned to smile at me. "Bella! How good it is to see you again! And with a new friend…?" She looked at Edward's outfit in interest. "Well, friends and family are invited for a free reading!" She sat down in the arm chair, seeming to disappear in it because she was so short.

"Now," Alice whispered dramatically. "What is it you have come to see me about, dears? Palm reading? Do you want me to scry for you and use the crystal ball? Divination cards? Horoscopes? Fix you an herbal potion?"

Edward's eyes narrowed with each suggestion.

"Hmmm," I wondered. "Palm reading sounds interesting."

Alice smiled in delight. "Wonderful! I'm going to have to ask you to leave the room, though," she told Edward. "I can only focus on one person's life line if there is only one person in the room. You'd mess up the flow of the universe."

He rolled his eyes and walked out of the backroom, possibly off to help Isis with any bags in the trunk of Alice's car.

"Hand, dear," Alice ordered. The lights seemed to dim as I gave her the hand that Isis had used when she was figuring out what herb I was connected to. The shadows from the now dying fire were causing Alice's face to look eerily creepy. A sudden feeling of unease settled into the pit of my stomach.

Nothing aside from the gentle chime from the pentacle wind ornament and the ticking of an ancient clock was breaking the stillness of the air as Alice stroked the palm of my hand from the end of my vein to the tip of my finger.

Then, finally, "Oh!" she gasped.

"What?" I demanded, starting to panic.

"It's unbelievable . . ."

"What is?" This was getting good! I was literally at the edge of my seat with excitement as I waited for her answer.

"I never saw it coming at all."

"_What_?"

Her eyes snapped open and her face was utterly serious as she told me the news that could possibly have an impact on my life. "The St. Louis Cardinals and the Detroit Tigers are neck in neck in the world series this year. I'm going to loose my bet."

"That's it?" I asked flatly. Alice snapped out of her shock and looked at me odd.

"Oh!" She said in realization. "You thought I was reading you _now_? I was just reading my own. Now I'll do yours." Alice picked my hand up again and inspected the lines very closely.

One minute passed. Then two. Then three. Eventually, after almost ten minutes of staring at the tiny lines in my hand, I finally got impatient. "Well?" I asked. "Do you see anything?"

Alice blinked, seeming uncertain. "Your palm was very different from other people for some reason. The lines are entwined together. I can't be positive, since I've never come across a person with a hand like yours, but . . ." She looked at me very soberly. "Honey, you've got a guardian angel."

I did my best to look surprised, but I didn't fool her. "And besides that; I should warn you about something. There's going to be much trouble from your enemies. All the trouble you've been through is just the beginning."

I didn't have to pretend to be surprised about that. "How can that be the beginning?!"

Alice shrugged. "I don't see the details; just the outline. Trouble's coming from your enemies. Beware." She waggled her fingers in a mock scary gesture.

"Well, thanks for warning me, Alice," I said, dazed. I got up out of my chair and strolled out of the door. "Tell Emmett I said hello, okay?"

She smiled. "Alright! He's been asking about you! How about you come by again sometime when I bring him here?"

"Sounds like a plan," I said.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The bus ride back to my—or should I say, our—home, seemed to take less time then when the way to Visions and Tealeaves. It's strange, how that seems to happen. A time lapse, I think they call it.

Edward was silent as the bus quietly purred down the wet road. Rain was showering down on us like someone had turned on a great shower head in the sky. We had left Ra and Isis at the shop with Alice, where that warm fire had been. I was half tempted to turn this bus around and go back to the comfort of incense and trees of life, but was afraid that Edward would disown me as a subject if I did that and brought him along.

I passed the time by digging through my purse for a mint or some other type of candy. Black nail polish, a mini hair brush, Goth white powder, crushed onyx eye shadow, a Nightmare before Christmas coin purse and finally . . . the dark green velvet choker with the sparkling silver skull medallion that Edward had given me.

Gently, I tried to clasp the choker on the back of my neck. My fingers kept fumbling though, which made a simple task such as putting on jewelry an Olympic event. It was either going to get fastened too tight and choke me to death, or too loose and fall on the ground.

Smooth hands brushed the base of my neck, scaring me out of my wits. "Let me help you. . . ." Edward murmured softly, unintentionally blowing his cool breath against my skin and sending shivers down my spine. His movements were slow and deliberate, staying on my skin far more then needed. I thought my heart would burst out of my chest by the time he finally got the necklace on.

"Thanks," I told him quietly. I felt heat creeping up my neck and across my face.

He sat there, staring at me for the longest time it seemed. I couldn't feel my legs or sense of balance as I found myself lost in his warm, bottle green eyes. The sound of the rain, the buzzing of the passengers in the seats behind us and even the horrible trombone music that the bus driver was playing on the radio all vanished, replaced by the steady beat of my heart.

"You look beautiful," he commented. "You look better in green then black, I have to say."

"You like green?"

"Almost as much as I like blue."

Edward liked the color blue; I put a mental tab on that for future reference.

I yawned, feeling spent from today's adventure. I had just found out that Mike and his cronies were cooking up some other plans to harm me, except that these plans could possibly be more elaborate. Not to mention more hurtful. I winced. He had already broken my wrist, my dignity and possibly even my sanity throughout the few months that I had been here; what else could he possibly be up to?

I leaned on Edward's shoulder and closed my eyelids. An arm, seeming almost tentative to touch me, weaved itself around my waist and held me close. I put my own arms around his torso and snuggled closer to him, trying to steal some body heat. In the end of our little snuggling fight, I had somehow sat in his lap and had my arms draped over his shoulders.

You can feel a lot when your chest is touching someone else's.

At first, all I could feel was my blood rushing and my heart attempting to escape. But after I calmed it down, I realized that it hadn't been just _my_ heart that had been misbehaving. I could feel the pace of his; as fast as a caged humming bird. Hesitantly, I placed my ear over his chest to hear more of it. He watched in fascination as I closed my eyes and smiled.

It was so soft and sweet . . . like a butterfly's sings. No matter what tempo it had, his heart was very faint. Ra had said that angels had died; was Edward's heart undead? A normal heart that was beating that fast could have been heard in a quiet enough room, but his . . . it was as if some sort of cushioning was covering it, muffling the sound.

If that was the case, if an angels' heart was indeed as dead as its body was, then perhaps falling in love with someone really was impossible. That was a logical explanation. The explanation I would have believed if I hadn't seen Ra's face.

The expression he had worn when he had looked at Isis came flooding back into my mind. So sad and desperate, and yet so caring and enraptured. I wondered what it felt like to fall in love with a person who had no idea that you existed. Someone who had no clue that you were watching over them so they wouldn't get hurt. Someone who would probably go off and marry a person that you were jealous of and have a family.

And someone who would never be able to give you a chance because that person couldn't see how much you adored them.

I buried my face into Edward's neck, inhaling his scent.

I didn't think that the 'old fashioned way', as he had put it, would have been the best for me to deal with. I liked having him here with me, whether or not he got me into trouble. So sue me; I liked having him around.

I fell asleep in his arms, more comfortable then I had been in a long time.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Edward's P.o.V.

Bella had fallen asleep right on my chest, her lips against my neck. I tried not to focus on that so much, but it was increasingly difficult not to. I was pretty sure that any teenaged boy would have done something less then holy to her if they had been in my position. But then again, I wasn't a regular teenager.

I looked out the window, cringing inside when the rain didn't look as if it would stop anytime soon. My back was aching from the power I had exerted from when I had retracted my wings; they were simply begging to burst out and stretch out some flight muscles.

It was cold inside the bus. Bella shivered next to me and continued to sleep straight through the storm. I smiled, admiring how darkly beautiful she was. It truly was a crime the way she had been treated; back in my day as a human, we treated women with the utmost respect. The thought of the blond boy who had broken her wrist made my blood boil. Why, if I hadn't been taught that killing someone was wrong, I'd . . .

I took my mind off of him and his evil doings and focused on why I had lost my ability to read minds, according to Ra. Could I have actually fallen in love with Bella upon sight and against my will? I'd admit that I had never felt the way I do about anyone besides Bella, but was I truly in love? Love was a big word; love was the utmost feeling a person could feel for someone they cared about. Absolute devotion—ready to die for the other if it was necessary.

Delicate hands rubbed up and down my spine, sending little shock waves riding through my system. My heart skipped a beat and my breathing stuttered. She was making me feel so weird lately.

. . . . Could Bella ever love me? Really, truly _love_ me? In more then a friendship way? There were shades and depths to love; maybe she loved me like a brother or a pet goldfish. I pouted. Perhaps it was just friendship love from her end. I wasn't entirely sure that I would be able to love someone anyway. Considering that I was dead and all.

Ra seemed convinced that we could though. In fact, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that he had fallen for Isis. Strike that—I'm _positive_ that he fell in love with her. He had never been so vacant when he looked at someone before, never so at-ease and excited at the same time.

So maybe I _had_ fallen in love with Bella. Against my will and without me knowing it.

I felt a broad grin stretch across my face. I liked the idea of falling in love. I liked the idea of holding Bella more like this. I liked the idea of kissing her soft looking lips. I liked the idea of starting a family with her and living with her until we grew old. As long as she was near me, I would be fine.

But my happiness was shattered in less then a split second when I realized something.

I could _never_ live with Bella. I was here to make her happy and get her out of a dark place; that was it. I was only here doing this because as soon as I succeeded, I would be sent to Heaven to rest in peace after waiting _so_ long in purgatory for my chance to deem myself worthy. I couldn't just stay here, because she was going to get happy eventually. And did I really want her to stay unhappy because of my selfish reasons?

No. I didn't. Bella deserved happiness. She deserved more then me. Because in the end, I was going to leave her.

The raindrops came buffeting against the window, icy fog rising outside. A rumble of thunder growled in the distance, threatening floods. It seemed as if the sky was crying, in despair for reasons unknown to us all.

The weather was mirroring my own feelings as we drove back to Bella's house.


	9. New Moon Murder

**(A/N I'm very sorry for the confusion! I deleted one of my chapters on accident, and I had to replace it. I didn't mean to have it sent out as a "new" chapter. ; my bad! I promise it won't happen again. **

**In this chapter, you finally see what I meant when I said I wanted this to be a mature fanfiction. In fact, when I read over it, it felt as if it was way too dark for a teenager to write. O.o; I must have a very twisted mind. Lol**

**I wonder what my parents are going to think of it—I have some suspicions that they will read this story someday. I admitted to my mother that I have been writing and posting my stories over the Internet, and now I'm not so sure that it was the best thing to do.)**

My ears pricked to the sound of a sweet voice calling my name. When I didn't respond immediately, the person became more persistent and began to lightly shake me by the shoulders. I groaned and turned around in my bed, pulling the covers over my face.

"Bella, get up. You're going to be late for school."

I remained laying there.

"Get up." The voice sighed in exasperation. "Please?"

Silence.

"Bella, I replaced all your black clothes with pink ones."

That got me moving. My eyes snapped wide open and I felt anger bubbling to the surface. Edward wasn't very surprised when I sat straight up and began to slap his arm.

"What the hell did you do to my clothes?!" I shouted. I wildly searched for any article of pink that he might have placed in my room. When I opened both my closet and my dresser, everything was comfortably charcoal though. I whirled, confused. "Edward, did you just lie to me?"

He shrugged. "You had to get out of bed somehow."

"Well, scaring me isn't very nice." I brushed past him with an armful of clothes and toiletries. Edward moved silently into the kitchen's direction as I passed into the bathroom for a shower.

I let the hot water rush down my hair and back, waking me up for the day. I was going to have to buckle down and listen hard to the teachers today—skipping a day of school meant missing lots of useful information, and I highly doubted that saying Mike was behind my early escape yesterday would be fine and dandy with the teachers. In fact, I had a feeling that it would be me who would be persecuted for it.

After a small scuffle with me cursing my shampoo because it had attacked my eyes, I managed to rinse off and get dressed without further incident. I snuggled into a simple black, long sleeved Virgins or Pigeons jacket and ripped up PVC skirt. Before I left the bathroom though, I put on my gift from Edward and took a long look in the mirror.

A girl with big brown eyes surrounded by black eye shadow stared out from her long brown hair. The eyes of the skull on the choker seemed to wink in the light. I rubbed it protectively. This was now one of my most treasured possessions that I owned, and I was willing to risk a limb protecting it if anything should happen.

I hadn't forgotten Alice's prediction. Now all I had to do was figure out what Mike had in store for me. It had to be something dirty and underhanded. Something simple but effective; something that hurt be both physically and mentally. I strained my brain trying to think up the possibilities. Mike was stupid, but only when it came to manners and how to interact with people. When it came to torture, he was a bloody genius.

I kept trying to figure out what he could possibly be cooking up as I walked to the kitchen for a glass of orange juice as my breakfast. Edward was sitting at the table with a distant expression, staring out the window. The white ruffled pirate shirt, pinstripe vest and tight trousers looked good on him. Tousled and artfully soft looking as always, his bronze hair blew from the air the fan was making. His scent drifted over to me and I took a discreet whiff of it. The same indescribably delicious smell that rolled off his skin filled my head and wiped it blank. Did Edward know how good he smelt? Did he know how perfect he was? Did he know how beautiful he looked, sitting there—

"You're pouring orange juice over your hand."

I snapped out of my daze and glanced down at my drenched palm. I had been so out of it that I had forgotten to get a glass to pour the juice in; what hadn't stayed on my hand landed in a puddle on the floor. Embarrassed, I rinsed off my hand and got rid of the fruity smell before grabbing a paper towel from the pantry to wipe up the mess. But I was dismayed to discover that I was too short to get it. I tried jumping for them, but all that did was make me mad at the roll of paper towels. They seemed to be mocking me from their perch on the top shelf.

"Darn it. Can't reach," I muttered to myself. I stretched as high as I could go as a last ditch attempt to retrieve the stubborn roll of Bounty. My fingertips grazed the plastic. "Almost . . . there . . ." My toes were starting to hurt because I was standing on them; almost mirroring my cramping arm.

A hand loomed over my own and grabbed the towels for me. I relaxed back onto my feet and spun around to thank Edward for coming to my rescue. My face met a very sweet, warm and slender neck.

The tension in the room burst forth in that moment, making it awkward for me to do anything but freeze up. Edward had his breath caught in his throat and stood as still as a statue. Time creeped by the minute, but that didn't matter; I couldn't feel anything besides my misbehaving heart.

Our gazes connected and somehow they couldn't summon the will power to move. Probing emerald irises bore into my own—I could feel myself getting sucked into the gravitational pull of it.

I leaned forward against my will and inched closer to his face. My lips ached for a mysterious reason, so I licked them nervously. They were begging to connect with his own pink colored mouth. I could see it part the tiniest fraction.

A flicker of something wild came into his eyes. It was a half-hopeful, half-hesitant look. Maybe I wasn't the only one who suddenly felt weird then . . . .

We were closer then ever before now. Our noses were touching. Reflexively, my arms got behind his back and my eyes started closing of their own accord. I was dimly aware of a warm hand pressing against my cheek and gently pulling my face upward. His eyes had already fluttered shut and his lips were forming something that looked suspiciously like my name.

"Bella . . ."

I couldn't have imagined the huskiness of his voice.

We were so close; and getting closer. The world had stopped turning. Nothing else mattered besides fulfilling this moment.

The phone decided that this was the perfect time to ring. Edward and I jumped half out of our skins as the phone started screaming loudly right next to us. Turning as fast as I could go, I grabbed the phone off the hook and looked anywhere besides him. He seemed to follow my example and began wiping up the orange juice I had spilt.

"Hello?" I asked nervously.

"Bella?" My father's voice crackled through the bad connection we were having on the phone line. "Is that you?"

"Yeah; it's me. How's Tokyo? Is everything alright? Are you coming home soon?"

Out of my peripheral vision, I saw Edward's back stiffen. If my father came home then he was definitely going to have to go some place else. I couldn't just tell my dad 'this is my friend. He shall be living with us now because he is my guardian angel' or else I'd be driven to the nut hut in milliseconds.

A long pause from his end, in whatever apartment in Japan he had gotten. "Actually, Bells, I called to tell you something about that. The business needs me—you wouldn't believe how demanding Ayumi Hamasaki and Okura Tadayoshi are." I could practically hear my dad rolling his eyes. "And don't get me started on Naruto Uzumaki! Who knew that our product would be so popular?"

"Uh, Dad," I said blankly. "Naruto is an anime character. Not a real person."

"Oh; maybe it was a cosplayer then. I saw a man dragging around a huge key and kept calling himself Sora."

"He's a Kingdom Hearts fan, Dad."

"I thought you would know. Good thing I called you then. I kept saying he was a Sailor Moon fan."

"How could you have possibly mixed those up?"

"I'm not as into anime as you are. Anyway, I just called to tell you that I'll be staying here for a little longer."

"Oh . . ." I frowned, disappointed. "How long are you staying?"

"I don't think that I'm going to be around for Christmas at the very least."

"That's over month away! It's October now! Halloween is in two weeks!" I complained. "Can't you come earlier?"

"No, I'm sorry, Bells." Charlie did sound saddened by this information. "I can't the company needs me."

"Mom wouldn't have left me . . ." I muttered.

Another long pause. The static was almost unbearable to listen to. "—ing up—call bac—iss you Bel—"

Click.

"Dad? Hello? Dad?" I called. "Are you there, Charlie?"

When the beeping noise came I hung up the phone, crestfallen. That had to have been the shortest chat I had ever had with my father. I didn't even get the chance to tell him that I missed him or that I loved him! Who knows when his next call would be? Who knew if he would ever call again?

"Is everything going to be okay?" asked Edward. He stood up straight and threw out the mess in the trash bin.

"No . . . everything is staying the same I guess. My dad is staying in Tokyo to please some customers." Slowly, I turned away from him and crossed my arms over my chest. "My dad's not going to be around for a while—Charlie's going to miss Christmas this time."

Edward paused and looked at me thoughtfully. "If he doesn't come home by then, I guess I'm going to be around for longer then I had anticipated."

"What do you mean?"

"It's plain that you're not going to be very happy without him for the holidays." He leaned against the kitchen counter and thought some more. "I have a . . . plausible theory about your depression."

"My mother left me. There, mystery solved," I said flatly, giving him a nasty look.

He gritted his perfectly white teeth in agitation. "That was the _cause_ of it, but not the whole part. I think that you would have gotten less depressed if your father had been here to help you out with it."

For a minute, all I could do was stare at him. Then I finally regained my senses and nodded my head slightly. "That seems logical. But he has a job to do and I respect that. Besides, if someone really cared that much for me then they would be here, wouldn't they? Maybe he's gone so much because," I pulled in a deep breath, ". . . he doesn't actually care as much as I do for him."

"No! Bella, that's not true." Edward strode over to me, quicker then a flash. Before my eyes could adjust to his closeness, he grabbed me by the shoulders and lowered his face down to my level. "He cares about you. Don't ever doubt that."

"Then why isn't he here with me?" I mumbled. "If he loved me he wouldn't be half way across the world. Maybe he's in Japan because he's trying to escape being with his daughter. Maybe he thinks I'm a nuisance. And maybe the only person I can really depend on after all is myself."

Edward hugged me tight, cutting off anymore ranting I could have made. "People care about you," he said into my hair.

"Name one. And don't say Mike Newton, because breaking bones and feelings isn't caring about someone, it's abuse."

"To hell with Mike." He pulled back a little to get a better vantage point. "_I_ care about you. You mean more to me then anything else in the world. I'm closer to you then I was with my own father. It seems odd to say this, but I think you might be helping me more then I'm helping you. I never felt like this before, for anyone—" Abruptly, he stopped talking and clamped his lips shut tight.

I could somehow sense an inner struggle brewing in him. I was able to identify a few of the emotions in his communicative gaze; at first, it was a look of desperation to say something, like someone was pointing a gun to his head and telling him to keep quiet even though he really wanted to tell me something. Then it transformed into a little glimmer of mild terror and embarrassment and back again into the hesitation.

"Best friends, remember?" he said weakly. A sad smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"Is there something wrong with being friends with me?" I asked him.

His eyes grew round. "What? No; why?"

"Because you don't seem very happy to be my friend. In fact, you look as if you're doing this against your will."

"No. I'm not upset over that. I'm just feeling kind of . . . odd, lately." He looked down at his boots.

"As in sick?" I put my forehead against his to feel for any abnormal warmth. Edward went red in the face as I rubbed against him. He did feel kind of warmer then usual. I pulled back and examined him closely. He seemed determined to look at anything besides my face as his ruddy cheeks flamed.

"You do feel kind of hot. Maybe you should stay home today?"

Edward immediately opposed the idea. "But I have to protect you—!"

"I can handle myself. I'm not a little girl, you know. One day alone isn't anything to flip out over; it's not like I'm going to get raped or anything." I rolled my eyes and dug through a drawer right next to me in search of something. After a while of finding coupons to the Bella Italia restaurant in Port Angelus and long abandoned fridge magnets, I came across a small framed picture.

After a long look at it to make sure it hadn't been damaged, I handed it out to Edward. "Here. I look at this when I'm sick and I always feel more better."

He practically fainted onto the linoleum floor. "Why are you handing me a picture of you in a bikini?!"

It was my turn to blush now. "It's not the fact that I'm giving you a picture of me—it's the woman next to me that I always feel better when I look at." I pointed to the thin, curly haired woman next to a younger version of myself. She was holding a beach ball and smiling recklessly, while her daughter tried to hide herself behind a beach towel. I was very shy about wearing a bikini, but somehow my mother convinced me to wear one that day.

Edward studied the picture. "You look very different in this picture. A good different." He looked closer at the photo for a second. "Dark blue is very attractive on you," he observed.

"I prefer black—it feels more comforting." I ignored the round of heat that his compliment had given me and grabbed my school bag and binder. "Sleep and drink juice, alright? If you get a headache there's some aspirin in the cabinet. If you are dying or something then give me a call on my cell phone." I jotted down my number on a pad shaped like a llama before starting to head out the door. But a sudden thought made me freeze with realization.

"Edward, I forgot my truck at school!" I wailed.

He looked at me oddly. "I got it last night when you were sleeping. It should be in the driveway."

"Oh. Well, thanks." I opened the door and stopped again. "You're an angel of healing, right? Why is it you can't heal yourself right now and come with me?" To be honest, I was extremely reluctant to go off to school without him—I had come to depend on him as my way of getting through the day.

"I think resting will be more of a cure then magic right now." He smiled crookedly, sending my heart into a frenzy. "I'll be all right by myself, don't worry. I won't set the house on fire."

"Alright; I'm off now." I slung my bag over my shoulder and ran out the door towards my ancient truck, which was sitting right in the driveway as Edward had said.

It was a good feeling to have a car retrieving angel on your hands.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"A _field trip_?" I muttered grumpily. I was sitting in the last class of the day, English, holding an Edger Allen Poe book in front of me like a barricade. Mr. Mason, the balding English teacher, kept prattling on about how we were all going to like it today.

"—fantastic history of La Push. The principal organized this trip to First Beach as a school treat." He grinned and stood up, looming over the whole class because of his tall height. I had to lean back in my seat in order to look at him. "There shall be a barbeque and a bonfire as well! I know how badly you've wanted one of those."

In my peripheral vision, I saw Mike and Tyler slap hands enthusiastically. I frowned. Now a barbeque seemed like a horrible idea because they wanted it.

"However, the ones failing English may not attend." Mr. Mason gave a pointed glance in Eric's direction. "Those who have lower then a C average shall stay here and give me a thousand word essay on the life and times of Chaucer. That means you, Yorkie." The class laughed as Eric slumped in his seat.

The teacher strode over to his desk and shuffled around with the papers. "We're leaving for the trip in half an hour; I shall call on the people who will definitely attend."

"Bella," Mike and Tyler said in unison. I resisted the urge to turn around in my seat, a knee-jerk reaction to someone saying my name.

"She's always reading stupid books," whispered Mike. "Just the other day I caught her reading Romeo and Juliet. What normal teenager reads that shit?"

I tensed up, making a mental note to shove down some Shakespearian plays down Mike's throat in the near future. I had a feeling that that would be the only brush with literature he would have had in his life.

"What's the purpose of books anyway? I thought the Internet wiped them out."

"Reading is stupid—only nerds read. Figures that freaks would read too." I felt them staring at my back as they continued their whispered conversation. "Why would someone want to read, anyway? It's, like, so totally dumb."

"Books smell weird," Tyler interjected randomly.

I rolled my eyes and returned my attention to the teacher, who was still searching for the right paper on his desk. Why is it I was landed with such imbeciles? How much longer was I expected to deal with their inane chatter? I grit my teeth and leafed through the collaboration of stories and poems in my hands. I bet Edward wasn't as stupid as these boys here.

My eyes flickered over to the empty seat beside me. Edward . . . I missed his light-hearted presence more then I had anticipated. It was just one day without him, but being without him felt as if I walked outside without any clothes. It felt as if something was missing.

Mr. Mason held up the paper in triumph. "Found it! Ready?"

The class gave an groan in reply, our customary answer when asked a question directed at all of us. He took that as acceptable, and began to read the list:

"Bella Swan."

"Told you," Mike mumbled to Tyler. I had the strongest impulse to stick my tongue at him.

"Mike Newton, Tyler Crowley, Jessica Stanley, Lauren Mallory, Angela Webber . . ." Mr. Mason went on and on, naming almost everyone in the room. When he finally reached the end of his list, he glanced down at his watch in what he had obviously hoped was a subtle motion. "Almost time to go! Eric and the rest of you flunkies, stay here. I'll be back for you when I see that the rest of the class makes it to the bus."

Jessica leaned towards Eric's desk. "Too bad for you, Eric. We'll bring you back a shell."

"Not a shell; a bathing suit top will be just fine." I heard a sickening giggle as Jessica's response.

I nearly vomited right then and there. Eric was such a sex-obsessed pervert. No, _all_ of them were obsessed with sex. They didn't care who they slept with as long as they slept with someone. Jessica had given up her virginity a long time ago—or so she announced in the locker room.

I couldn't fathom why a person would want to do that to themselves. To give one of the most precious things you have and can never get back to someone who's going to break your heart the next day. Who in the world would willingly go through with that?

That was why I was holding mine for a long time from now.

Suddenly, I got an idea to pass the time. I ripped out a piece of paper from my binder and drew a line horizontally across the top of the sheet. On top of the line I wrote three words: **My Standards. **

I scrawled "intelligence that doesn't rival a chipmunk" right next the first pullet point in the '**not**' section. That was closely followed by "not a pervert", "not a one-night-stander", "not addicted to illegal substances", and "not Mike Newton or any of the jerks here in Forks High".

The '**yes**' qualities were less as hard to choose. "Nice", "generous", "sweet", "able to accept my strangeness", "loyal", "dependable", "loves me for me", "funny", "smart" and "it wouldn't be a bad thing if he was good-looking, too." The last bit was admit ably shallow, but would someone really want to end up with the hunchback of Notre dam when she could have a totally sweet, intellectual hottie? I didn't think so.

It was an extremely difficult process to think up a candidate based on my qualification list. Romeo Montague repeatedly ran through my thought process—but he was unfortunately vetoed, due to the fact he was a fictional character of a play and because he was more then a little fickle. Displeased with that resolution to knock Romeo out of my possibilities, I racked my brains for another person who matched up. The seconds went by.

I sighed and rubbed my temples. This was harder then I thought. I couldn't name a person who was actually real who fit into these categories.

My eyelids abruptly snapped open when I realized that I actually _did_ know someone. Why hadn't I thought of him before? I mean, this was like a scarily similar description of him!

At first I was reluctant, but eventually I wrote Edward's name right next to the scribbled out Montague before him.

My paper was snatched off my desk by two hideously familiar hands. I didn't have enough time to react the way I wanted to—tackle him to the ground and castrate him—so I had to settle for jumping out of my chair furiously.

"Give it back, Mike!" I snarled.

"'_Give it back, Mike,'_" he mimicked in a high voice. Eric and Tyler laughed along with him as he straightened out my paper to read it.

"Mike, you freaking asshole! Give it to me _now_!" I clawed at my paper, but Mike only held it up higher, out of my reach.

"No, I don't think I will." He grinned wickedly down at me. I stared at him, astonished and fuming. "If you want it so badly, that must mean it's worth something. I think that it's time I read something of interest to the freak."

"_I'm_ the freak when _you're_ the one stealing papers off of peoples' desks? How did that one work out?" I asked acidly. "Now fork the paper over or I swear to God that I'm going to kick your sorry ass."

Jessica, Lauren, Tyler, Eric and Mike all simultaneously 'oooooohed' in mock fear. My teeth were begging to clamp around one of their necks and snap them. Of all the times to wish I was a vampire . . .

"What are you going to do, Creepy?" Mike looked at me contemptuously.

"This." I kneed him in the groin as hard as I could, sending him falling to the ground, howling in pain. I retrieved my paper triumphantly and looked over to Mr. Mason's desk. He had gone off somewhere. It suddenly occurred to me that besides Mike and his crones, I was alone in the room. Mr. Mason must have taken them out to the bus while I was distracted.

"You—" Jessica called out to me angrily. I smiled and turned to her.

"Something you want to say?"

"You'll get what's coming to you. This is only the beginning, mark my words." She turned back to nurse the injured Mike, who was clutching himself and whimpering.

Alice's words floated back to me, chilling my blood. Had I crossed the boundaries and set my own fate by doing self-defense? I wondered this to myself as I escaped out of the room and towards the bus area.

Sitting back in the brown leather seat of the bus in the back, I decided something as the engine exploded to life. I wouldn't let Mike hurt me, with or without Edward. Although I wouldn't have minded having him sitting hear with me anyway.

An unexpected flash of the school's colors caught my eye. Tyler and Mike were running towards the departing bus, their expressions livid. Jessica and Lauren tried to match the speed of their boyfriends, but their high heels slowed them down. Lauren tripped and flopped into a mud puddle with a shriek. Distracted by the screaming, Mike and Tyler looked back and slowed down. The bus decided that this was the perfect moment to take off.

They had noticed that they were going to miss the bus—they were shouting for the bus to stop. But luckily for me, we had an almost deaf substitute driver at the wheel, and he heard nothing. The kids on the bus were laughing at them with their friends. I saw one girl flip off Jessica and tell her bus seat partner how much she hated airheads like that.

If Edward had been sitting with me, I probably would have said the same thing; in more graphic terms, perhaps, but the same gist of the topic. I would have to tell him what happened today. If he heard it from Mike himself, who knows how much the truth would be stretched? Instead of me trying to get my paper back from Mike, he could say that I attacked him for no reason.

Deep down, I knew Edward wouldn't believe Mike. He had witnessed him attack me first-hand. But I still wanted to put the terms more delicately then I'm sure Mike could say. Maybe if he heard it from _my_ mouth, it would lessen the impact.

Maybe I should have stayed home with him. I could have fixed him something to eat, perhaps. Some eggs, hash browns and orange juice for breakfast, some instant vegetable ramen for lunch, and tomato soup with grilled cheese for dinner. All the things my mother used to feed me when I was sick with a fever or something.

But Mom was watching over him now—I had given him my only picture of Mother I had left, after all. But sometimes a picture wasn't enough to get better over. Sometimes when I was sick, I could still feel arms around me. Strangely enough, Edward reminded me of her. Maybe it was because of their positive attitudes or perhaps it was the fact that I felt more myself with them then anyone else.

I tried to ignore the empty seat next to me, where the lack of a person sitting there seemed impossibly magnified. The drizzling of the rain was constant against the windows of the bus, a background for the voices of the chattering students.

I wished Edward was here.

A slow motion replay of the events in the kitchen earlier this morning suddenly turned in my brain. I was shocked at how close I had been to kissing him today. What a brazen thing to do. It made me want to hide my face in shame.

But I had been sure at the time that he had wanted it too. He even said that he had never felt this way for anyone else before. Could it be that what Ra had said was true?

Could Edward be in love with me?

I had no clue at all. I didn't even know my own feelings for him. What I did know was that I never felt as attached to anyone like this aside from my mother. Maybe that was what he had been trying to say? He called me his best friend, so this was a plausible consideration. For some reason, I felt extremely disappointed.

The bus pulled to a stop at the beach a few minutes after I decided to stop thinking about that particular topic at the moment. Coach Clapp—apparently the supervisor for this school outing—called the classes to order and forced them to gather around a giant campfire. There were large pieces of driftwood set around the fire as places to sit. Coolers were lined up against a demonic looking grill, ready for a barbeque to begin.

I hadn't noticed how dark it had gotten. You could see stars in the dark clouds, the little break of a sunset right next to it. The water splashed and gurgled invitingly, but was soon drowned out by a kid with his rather impressive boom box. 'When Your Heart Stops Beating' by +44 started strumming across the air.

I had a feeling that this field trip was actually going to be bearable. Mike was gone, the night was beginning, a good band was playing and I got free food. Life was starting to look pretty good.

"First one to light the bonfire successfully gets the first burger!" Coach yelled. The druggies and pyromaniacs whipped out their lighters and matches that they had brought along and rushed towards the giant mound of firewood. Trying to blend into the background, I backed away farther down the beach to explore the water by myself.

Only a few girls were standing away from the crowd; they were collecting shells. I paid them no heed as I walked off on my own, making footsteps in the wet sand. Eventually, my shoes became too soggy to walk at the water's edge anymore. I had to take them off and put my socks in my shoes before I could walk with them in my hands. A sea bird cried out loudly, somewhere near the cliffs. Briefly, I paused to examine the water—it was a darkening mass of ocean with topaz rays of the sunset dancing on it.

It was a very pretty time to visit the beach, I had to admit. I sat down on an aged, algae-topped rock, higher then the water but low enough to dip my bare feet in. The bonfire could be seen as a little flame in the distance.

What a shame that Edward was missing this. Subconsciously, I touched my choker. He would really like to see this. Has he ever even seen a beach? I'd have to bring him here sometime; maybe later tonight I could—

A hand came down on my shoulder.

On instinct alone, I twisted around, grabbed a sharp rock and was about to stab the dude who had grabbed me in the solar plexus, when I came face to face with a very familiar set of people.

Isis jerked back her hand and was shrinking away from me nervously. Ra was scrutinizing me, waiting for my next move and ready to jump at me if I made any sudden movements.

I instantly dropped the rock back to the dirty sand with a sigh of relief. "Oh! It's just you." I sat back down on my rock and smiled at them. "I thought you were a mugger or something. But I'm glad to see you two."

Furrowing her eyebrows, Isis crossed her arms and looked at me oddly. "Two? It's just me here."

Ra shuffled his feet uncomfortably and hopped onto a rock nearby. He smoothed out his feathers and kept his wings high enough not to touch any of the wet earth around him. Maybe wet wings made it harder to fly. Poor guy; it must be hard living here for him.

"Uh . . . I meant 'it's good to see you, _too_' not 'two'," I fibbed. Isis accepted my little white lie and sat down next to me. She was wearing a brown, long-sleeved shirt made out of floaty looking material. There was a yellow ribbon and a yellow flower child pocket at the side. Her skirt was long and earth colored, a patchwork quilt pattern. On the bridge of her nose she had green John Lennon glasses. She still had her moon earrings and the mood ring though.

"I'm a hippie," she explained when she caught me staring. "You'd be amazed how many people seem to hate hippies now; the people down there near the fire gave me weird looks."

"Trust me; I know how you feel," I said darkly. She nodded and stared off into the swirling water. The wind picked up and whistled coldly against us. Our hair blew wildly for a minute before it began to die down, but the strong salty smell it left remained with us.

"I've been having these really odd dreams," Isis suddenly admitted. She sounded as if she had been holding that in for a really long time. I glanced at her and saw that her face looked more then a little troubled.

"What about?"

"About a boy. A boy with wings." Her perceptive brown eyes bore into my own, knowing.

Oh, crap. Isis knew! I gulped. "Wings. . . ? Is he a fairy, maybe?"

"No, he's an angel, I think. He had huge ivory wings on his back, and he's more beautiful then any other man I have seen. The angel had glossy black hair, icy skin and piercing green eyes."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ra look as if he had the breath knocked out of him. His wings shot upward in astonishment, fanning out his glorious feathers.

"And does this angel say anything to you?" I asked, feeling as if I had entered the Twilight Zone by mistake.

"Yes." She paused. "You're going to think I'm crazy, but he keeps telling me that, 'Death shall kiss you in the fight.' Weird, huh?"

I nodded hollowly. "Weird."

"I don't even fight. I guess it's just a dream after all," she mused. "But my dreams more often then not become a reality. That's what's worrying me." She watched the waves as they crashed against the shoreline. Ra and I exchanged glances—judging from his expression, he was just as surprised as I was.

Ra hadn't contacted Isis in anyway possible. So why was she having dreams of him?

"Ask her if she knows his name!" he hissed.

"Alright, I will," I promised.

"Who are you talking to?" Isis looked around.

"Oh! It's nothing, just talking to myself." I laughed nervously. "But I was wondering, did he tell you his name?"

"His name?" She thought a little while. "It's Ra. He introduced himself the first time I dreamt about him."

At this point, I was half-expecting Jerry Springer to pop out from behind a piece of driftwood. This was all just too much of a coincidence to be reality. It was too _creepy_ to be reality. But then again, I was hosting an angel of myself in my home, so maybe dreams about a person who's watching you weren't so weird.

"The beach is beautiful, isn't it?" she asked cheerily.

"Yeah; I'll have to take along Edward one of these days. I'm sure he'd love to play with the seagulls." I motioned to a rather obese specimen that was waddling over to us. Isis giggled and reached out to pet it. The bird eyed her hand wearily and clamped its beak on her fingers.

Isis wasn't swayed by the attack and merely poked the seagull in the ribs really hard. With a pitiful squawk, it dropped back into the water with a splash. We laughed as it flailed around, hissing at us in anger. It finally flew off after giving us the evil eye.

"I think it's going to return; but this time with back up," I muttered. "I didn't like the look it gave us. It seemed almost as if it was promising revenge."

"Vengeful birds? That's almost as ridiculous as my angel dreams," Isis scoffed.

"But it's possible. Haven't you ever seen the movie, _the Birds_?" I asked.

"Yeah, and I thought it was a load of crap. The blood looked _orange_ for Pete's sake."

"Finally, I've met someone who's noticed that!"

"Who wouldn't? It was totally obvious."

We sat there bonding for over an hour. Isis was a really interesting person—she was into horror movies, paranormal romance books, visual kei fashion from Japan and even wrote poetry. She explained to me how she once had this admirer who gave her poetry all the time. Ra wasn't exactly too thrilled to hear that.

"Has Edward given you any poetry?" she asked at one point.

I could feel my face fall into shock. "Edward? Writing poetry for me? No, it isn't like that between us."

"Oh." She looked confused. "I just thought, since you looked so close at the shop, that . . . I don't know, that you might be engaged or something."

"Engaged? I'm seventeen!"

"It was just the way he was looking at you that made me feel that way." She shrugged. "I think you'd be a cute couple."

"Well, you and Ra would make a better one," I muttered under my breath.

They heard me.

"_What?_" they both half-shouted at the same time.

"Yes, you'd make a lovely couple. Angels must be hard to come by, Isis." I winked at her and she blushed.

"But he's not even real . . ."

"Tell me, did you think he was cute?" I pressed. She blushed darker and nodded slightly. Ra looked immensely pleased, but highly embarrassed.

"Maybe you'll meet him someday."

She smiled at me and raised an eyebrow. "You have to be the first person I've ever told this to, and yet for some reason I can't help but think that you're the only person who'd take my dream so seriously."

"As some princess once said, 'dreams do come true'."

"That isn't exactly in the same context, though."

"Oh well; it worked for this one."

"Anyway, back to Edward," she said. "Do you like him?"

I hesitated. Ra leaned in, seeming eager to know my answer. While Isis allowed me to think for a bit, _he_ was more forceful.

"Well? Do you like my friend or not?" he pressured. "It's obvious that he likes you."

"You're wrong," I said softly. My own voice sounded sad, even to me.

"I'm wrong?" Isis repeated blankly. "You don't like him?"

"No!" I said quickly. "I like him, but I'm not sure if I _like_ him. You know what I'm talking about."

She didn't answer immediately. She just zoned out for a split second and got a blank look. I shook my hand in front of her face. When that didn't work, I just watched what she would do next. She snapped back to attention after a while.

"Bella," Isis said, alarmed. "I just had my first vision without sleeping!"

"Good for you," I congratulated. I expected her to look proud, but when she stared at me in horror I began to get nervous. Isis grabbed my shoulders tightly, her knuckles turning ivory. I winced at the pain.

"It was about you!" she whispered frantically. "Oh my God! You have to know, you and Edward—"

Her warning was cut off by Mike's sneering voice.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the Freak."

I spun around in fright, nearly knocking Isis into the freezing water below. Jessica, Lauren, Tyler and Mike were right behind us, standing on an enormous hill. A distance away, I saw Mike's Suburban in a deserted parking lot.

When I had ditched Mike at the school I had forgotten that he had a car.

Isis blinked, confused. "Who are these people?" she whispered.

"My personal demons," I mumbled. "They aren't too happy with me at the moment. If you've ever had self-defense classes, consider using that."

"You speak as if they're going to beat us up! They aren't dangerous, are they?"

I remained silent, narrowing my eyes as they walked over to us. I didn't like the uneasy feeling in my gut at all. Something was different then the last time; it as hard to explain how it was, but that's all I could describe it as.

"_And besides that; I should warn you about something. There's going to be much trouble from your enemies. All the trouble you've been through is just the beginning."_

Alice's words again.

This had to be the time when they were going to get me. I felt a thrill of pure terror go through me. I wasn't going to be going through this alone. No; I had Isis. But that was the problem.

Isis was going to be put through this just as much as me, all because she was my friend.

"Isis, run," I whispered fiercely. She looked at me in surprise, unmoving.

"I said 'run'!" I shouted in desperation.

That's when they attacked us.

"What's this?" Tyler asked, noticing Isis for the first time. "Is this the Freak's sidekick, Hippie Girl?" He grinned wickedly. I felt her shudder, and step behind my back.

Ra was tensed up, not sure what to do, but ready to defend Isis if she needed him. He got in front of me, spreading his wings out protectively. I'm sure that Mike's gang would have been impressed if they could actually see him.

But they couldn't.

"We're in luck," Mike purred. "We went out hunting for only one useless person—and now we found two." He turned Jessica and Lauren. "Open the car doors! It's going to be a lot of trouble to open them while we're busy. You get the Hippie Girl, I'll take care of the Freak," he said to Tyler. Tyler licked his lips lasciviously.

Uh-oh.

I grabbed Isis's hand and sprinted to the direction of the campfire. Soggy grains of sand flew behind us as we pumped and pulled our way to help. Isis was having trouble keeping the pace in her flip flops, and was dragging us down. From the way she was breathing, I could tell that she wasn't used to this kind of psychical endurance—her chest heaved up and down with each gasp she made.

Despite the fact she was having trouble, she still ran as fast as she could.

But sometimes, doing as much as you can just isn't enough; not when you're facing football players at least. Mike and Tyler were catching up to us, fast. They were three meters away and gaining more ground with each second.

Realizing that we could run faster if we let go of each other's hands, Isis let my fingers slip out from her own. The salt of the sea air stung my eyes and made them water. Hoping that my lungs would make it to the campsite before they could catch up to us, I strained every muscle in my body to that goal. Fortunately, adrenaline rushes sped peoples' athletic abilities—when you're frightened all of you're senses intensify; that's why you always think you hear things when you're alone in a dark basement. I passed Isis.

And then tripped over a small piece of driftwood. I got a mouthful of crunchy sand. I was pretty sure that I even saw a snail in the sand I had spat out, too. Disgusting. I scrambled up again and made a dash towards the fire—it was becoming increasingly bigger. All I need to run was one more mile, and then I'd—

Something hard crashed into my back, knocking me back onto the beach with a shriek. My heat beating erratically, I tried to rise up and run as fast as an Olympic track star. But of course, I was delayed; my ankle was clamped firmly in the hands of Mike.

"Got you," he crowed in glee. He dragged me across the wet sand, back to his car. I struggled violently against his hold.

"Let me go! What the hell is wrong with you?!" I screamed at him.

He just laughed.

My easily upset temper flared. How dare this bastard mock me with his laughter? How dare this _asshole_ touch me?! What gave him a flipping right to so much as look in my direction? I gnashed my teeth together, steaming angry.

He. Was. Going. To. Die. Those were the only words registering in my thought process.

With one ankle secured in his hand, I wrapped the other around his wrist tightly. I caught him off guard, and he looked down in surprise. That's when I twisted myself around, making his hand come in a circle too. A crack sound split the air, coupled with a howl of pain.

I leaped back up to my feet after successfully breaking Mike's wrist bones. We were both breathing heavily now—me because I was seething with rage and him because he was mourning his hand. I looked frantically around for any sign of Isis.

She was gone.

"You bitch!" Mike exclaimed. "You damn bitch! Look at what you did to my hand!"

"There's more coming to you if you touch me again, you sleaze," I promised. He gave a feral snarl, scaring me. My heart accelerated in sheer terror. Mike really was going to kill me now.

Just then, a scream pierced the night. We both were so startled by the noise that we whirled to the direction it had came from—the parking lot.

Isis was shrieking her lungs off as Tyler dragged her by her hair across the pavement. He was taking her to the Suburban, it's doors opened wide. Jessica and Lauren were at the wheel, looking at the scene around them folding out. Even though I was only five meters away, I could see the look of complete excitement on their faces. It was revolting.

"Let go of her!" I shouted at him.

Mike snickered. "You shouldn't care so much for her; she's going to get raped anyway."

I stared at him in utter horror. "Raped?! _That's what you were planning on doing to us?!_"

"No, that was what we had planned for _you_; she just got in the way." He widened his eyes in mock realization. "I guess today just wasn't the day to hang out with her, huh?" He laughed.

"You bastard!" I snarled. I dashed off to where the parking lot was, trying to see what was happening to Isis.

She was struggling wildly, clawing at Tyler like a trapped animal. He was starting to get frustrated with her, and pulled her harder by her hair.

"Come _on_, get in the car—"

"_Never!_" she shrieked. Then she spat in his face.

Tyler blinked stupidly, then his brows furrowed together in anger. "You—"

I picked up a large pebble from the beach and threw it as hard as I could in the direction of Tyler's enormous head. I was not disappointed; with a loud clunking noise, it hit him right on his potato-skin ear.

Tyler stopped moving, but didn't let go of Isis. Isis sensed a moment of weakness and barreled into his stomach with her elbow, driving it to his rib cage. She ended up making them fall behind the car, out of my line of vision.

Where the hell was Ra?! Wasn't he supposed to be protecting her?! I searched for him and found him inside the car. What was he doing . . .? My questions were answered when he knocked Jessica and Lauren out in a swift motion. Their heads landed on the dashboard.

I heard a crunch of glass behind me. I spun around, terrified.

Mike was holding a broken bottle in his good hand, grinning. "Don't be like that . . . I don't want to hurt you . . ." He took a step forward.

"Oh yeah, I'm going to trust you!" I said sarcastically. I braced myself, feet apart, trying to remember through my panic what little self-defense I knew. Heel of the hand thrust upward, hopefully breaking the nose or shoving it into the brain. Finger through the eye socket—try to hook around and pop the eye out. I really wished that a policeman might witness this, or maybe someone from the bonfire would notice two screaming women, but of course nobody came.

"I've got you now!" Mike rushed up to me, where I was still trying to set my defenses straight. As if in slow motion, I saw the broken alcohol bottle coming closer to my face, inch by agonizing inch. I could see every little rigid, jutting piece of the glass sticking out. I shut my eyes, and saw a beautiful face behind the lids. Dammit, I needed to see him one last time before I . . .

"Ugh!" Mike grunted. I heard something thud to the ground, followed by a crash. My eyelids fluttered open in astonishment. What had happened? Why wasn't I bleeding on the sand right now?

Mike was getting beaten to a bloody pulp by someone straddling him like a bull rider; I could hear the punches getting thrown, they were so fierce. The same person punching him suddenly twisted him around and threw him to the dirt. He then proceeded to continually stomp Mike's solar plexus. Bruises of violently dark hues began forming on his face; I saw a dribble of blood from one of his lips.

"Go after her again, and I swear to God that I'll send you straight to hell!" my rescuer snarled. Mike gave a wavering groan in response. With a final punch to the gut, the beating ended. I saw Mike's head slump to the side. He was knocked out cold.

"Are you alright?" Edward asked softly. He hugged me close to his chest and held me there. I nodded and buried my face into the familiar scent of his clothes.

"I thought that I'd never see you again," I admitted. "I thought I was going to die. He was going to _rape_ me, Edward." I pulled him closer to me, trying to comfort my panicking heart rate.

"I know," he said grimly. "You could tell from the look in his eyes that he wasn't just going to hurt you with a glass bottle. I _knew_ I should have come with you today!"

"Yeah, I guess you should have."

"You guess?" he repeated in disbelief. "If I hadn't come for you, at that moment then I could never have lived with myself! Do you know how much that would _kill_ me, if anything happened to you? Did I not tell you this morning how much I cared?" he demanded.

I felt my tear ducts react again. Yeah, he had told me. Edward must really and truly care if I lived or died.

"I also remember something _you_ said to me this morning," he continued. When he noticed my perplexed look, he clarified himself. "You said, and I quote, 'I can handle myself. I'm not a little girl, you know. One day alone isn't anything to flip out over; it's not like I'm going to get raped or anything.' So much for _that_ promise."

"Hey, it wasn't as if I knew it would actually happen!"

He groaned. "But with you, Bella, anything could happen. You're a magnet for trouble—if there's anything dangerous in the area it will invariably find you."

"That's not true." I pouted. "You found me and _you're_ not dangerous."

"No, I'm just the person who's supposed to protect you from it. Not that I'm doing my job very well." He grimaced. "I could smell blood from the skies—I thought that I was too late."

"Blood?" I repeated. "I wasn't bleeding."

"Then who was?" Edward asked, confused.

Suddenly, my brain put two and two together. "Isis!" I realized in horror. It tore myself away from Edward's grasp and raced to the lone Suburban in the parking lot. The night was now completely dark, save the stars. It was a new moon tonight.

The little pebbles skittered under my feet as I neared the car. I heard a muffled sound—a sound of pain. A sound of someone crying. My shoes stepped in a dark puddle of water leaking from under the car. Wait, where had the water come from? The car was far from the ocean.

I saw Ra's back—or rather his wings—first. They were heaving up and down with each shuddering gasp of breath he took.

"I was too late . . . I couldn't . . ." He moaned and lost the rest of his words in his tears.

Edward looked down at his friend in disturbed dismay. His mouth made a little 'o' of shock.

"Ra, what's wrong? Where's—" My breath hitched in my throat as Ra's wings—drenched in something dark—moved.

Tyler was knocked out, but breathing under the car. He didn't seem to be aware that he was breathing in the water that was spilling from somewhere. But I could care less about him.

What made me feel hot tears burn down my face was who was next to him—the thing that Ra had been shielding.

I knew where the dark water came from now.

It came from Isis, who was lying on the pavement, motionless and not breathing. It came from the gash on the back of her head from when she had hit the concrete when she had tackled Tyler.

The pool of water I was stepping in, the dark liquid on Ra's wings and the water that Tyler was sleeping in was Isis's blood, cooling with every passing second.

Isis was dead.


	10. Comforting the Angel

**Edward's P.o.V. **

The thunder rumbled irately, chasing after the quickening raindrops. The sound of a bus driving off onto the road was in the background—Bella's bus had left without her. It was just as well, because in her present condition I don't think she could have gotten on it without causing a panic.

She was hyperventilating wildly, her eyes wide with the scene before her. Her hand crushed mine with her grip, presumably strengthened by fear.

I wasn't as shocked as she was. I_ wasn't _an emotionless jerk, but I was so used to seeing death wreak havoc with mortals that it wasn't something I blinked about anymore. I remember sitting in my death class in purgatory—Professor Celestina forced us to stare down from a cloud at humans dying in battle, dying of old age, getting murdered, committing suicide and other forms of unpleasant ends.

I was, however, more concerned about my friend.

Ra was wrapping his arms around Isis's body, his wings seeming to wither down to the muddy pavement with despair. Her blood was washing away with the cold water.

Suddenly, something heavy slumped against me. I snapped my head to the side and looked down on Bella, who was sinking to her knees. Grabbing her before she hit the ground, I was surprised to discover that she had fainted. I gently laid her down on the warm carpet of the car next to us, the doors still open from when Mike tried to drag her in there.

My knuckles ached angrily, begging to get another go at him while he was unconscious. After what he did to Bella he didn't deserve to live. My eyes darted towards the place I had left him.

Clearly, he was still knocked out. He was motionless, almost as still as Isis was. I should have been satisfied about that.

But I got an uneasy feeling in my stomach. Something wasn't right . . . there was an abnormally dark aura around him. It felt dangerous, wicked. Possibly even blood thirsty. But it defiantly wasn't friendly, that was for sure.

I frowned and decided to push that thought to the back of my mind—I had more important things to do, like comforting my friend. As I turned my back from him, I could have sworn I saw his eyes open wide, red with something demonic. Chilled to my stomach, I glanced back at him again. His eyes were shut; he was still out cold. Maybe I was seeing things.

But still . . . I couldn't help but leave that nagging image in line sight.

Ra didn't look up at me as I lightly put my hand on his shoulder. Under my palm he shuddered with each gasp. I sat beside him, careful not to sit on his feathers or Isis's feet.

"Ra . . . its okay . . ." I tried to comfort him. He shook his wet, dark hair, sniffling. He brought Isis closer to him and whimpered.

"Seriously, she's in a better place now," I said softly. "She might get into just as much trouble as we did in purgatory! We had a blast there, remember? That's where we met, after all. She'll be happy there—and besides, your duty is completed! She died before you could get her to truly believe, but I'm sure . . . that . . ." I struggled, getting discouraged. Ra had finally looked up, and I wasn't so sure that I didn't prefer talking to his hair.

Have you ever looked into the face of someone genuinely broken? It's like staring into the eyes of someone without a soul, as if the soul had been sucked out before them and devoured. Now imagine your best friend in that same position. Imagine them with tears running freely down their face as they looked up at you. Imagine your best friend saying to you in a crumpled voice, what mine said to me at that moment.

"Edward, I'm going to Hell."

I staggered to my feet, feeling everything in me freeze up. For a split second I thought that my heart had even stopped beating.

"What?!" I gasped out.

"I'm going to Hell," he repeated. Ra looked back at Isis's face, soaked with rain. "But if I do go down there then it will be a relief from where I am right now. Hell has nothing to offer me that I haven't already been through at this moment. How can I enjoy Heaven, anyway?" he demanded. "Heaven would seem incomplete without Isis with me."

I couldn't believe my ears. "Ra, I can't believe that you . . ."

He shot me a dagger glare. "That I what? That I fell in love with a mortal?"

"No, not that."

"Then what is it?" he spat.

"That you could be such a dummy," I said flatly. He looked as if I had slapped him. "God is merciful to those who deserve it. He'll give you another chance. And besides, Isis was a good person. She'll go to purgatory, get her duty and then come to you," I explained.

He was silent for a minute, contemplating my words. Suddenly, he broke out in a grin.

"Edward, I have a better idea," he said excitedly. Ra's wings picked up and flapped with happiness, a strong green glow surrounding the down of his feathers. "You can try to heal her! I know how good you are at healing people."

"I hadn't thought of that," I admitted slowly. "But I'm not sure that I could do that to her."

His face fell. "Why not?"

"I haven't tried to heal anyone who was dead, Ra. The best I could do would be to heal her gash. She might still be dead after I try it," I warned.

"The word 'might' doesn't mean anything definite." He placed her so that she was facing me more. "Please try it."

I crossed my arms and thought deeply. If I did it now, it just might save her life. Or we could have a zombie on our hands. The odds tilted towards the worse end of the stick—crushing Ra's hopes would be the worst experience in my very long existence. This could be the last time that I would see my friend; unless I got sent to Hell, that is.

He saw my hesitant expression and continued. "I love her, Edward! I can't let her die just now! Please, do this for her! Do this for _me_!" he begged.

I groaned. "I must be out of my mind," I muttered, standing directly in front of Isis.

Ra grinned. "Thank you. I'll never forget this."

"You better not—I'm going against God's will by doing this. I could send us _both_ to Hell and unleash an undead creature on the poor inhabitants of Forks," I said grimly. "Stand back and leave her to me. Check up on Bella to see if she's fine."

He obediently went over to the car and sat down next to her. I could hear her soft breathing, and I turned back to the task on hand with a determined air.

Isis lay flat on the wet pavement, the rain pouring onto us both. My clothes were positively drenched—maybe I would get a cold for the first time since my visit to Earth. The blood had long since vanished, making my job much easier.

I lifted my hands over the corpse and breathed in deeply. A familiar heated tingle swirled in the middle of my palm. Small sparks of purple magic spurted from my hands, spraying onto the ground.

That was the excess magic—I had to focus on getting my _real_ magic out and running. But in order to successfully do that I would need to stop restraining my wings because of the energy it exerted. In a split second, they burst out of my back in all their soft and feathery glory, hanging over my shoulders comfortably.

The magic circulated more freely. Instead of the little shimmers coming out of my palms, there was a lavender fog spiraling smoothly and rapidly. The fog grew bigger with each muscle I strained for magic. This was a full body workout for angels.

The process was almost completed when the fog had uncurled itself and enveloped Isis. She was lost in a cloud of purple smog. I saw Ra shift uncomfortably, probably not liking not being able to see her.

I smiled, letting my hands fall to my sides. I wasn't done, but the hard part was over at least. I knelt beside Isis's body and touched her cheeks with my fingertips. Her face was as cold as ice; maybe this wouldn't go over so well?

Reluctant to turn back now, I leaned my head down to meet hers. Ra started to shout out, indignant. I fought the urge to laugh as I touched foreheads with Isis. My ability to read minds wasn't needed when it came to just now—it was obvious that Ra thought I was about to kiss her. Maybe the Prince in Snow White thought kissing dead girls was fun, but that wasn't my hobby.

I closed my eyes and used my forehead to releasing some magic into her system. I'd compare it to the Wiccan ceremony of grounding, but I couldn't be sure. Think of releasing power by pumping it out with your will.

At the point of being drained, I finally drew back from her. My purple fog was evanescent now, clearing because the energy I had was used up. My wings shook off the rain that had been sticking my feathers together.

A minute passed. Then two. Then three. I felt my heart begin to sink. Maybe I _had_ done it wrong. I was just about to apologize to Ra when a low moan escaped Isis's frosty lips. Disbelieving, I swiveled around to see her face scrunched up in pain. Her hand crept up to clutch the back of her head where the cut had been. It was apparently still tender.

"Isis!" Ra yelped. He had scooped her up into his arms in an instant, looking hesitantly down at her. She didn't respond, but breathed gently against his neck.

His eyes were watery when he pulled away from her face to look at me.

"Thank you," he said, his face breaking out into a big grin. "Thank you so much."

"Don't thank me just yet," I said darkly. "She's still massively injured—all I did was fix her up so that she wasn't dead. If we don't get her to a hospital right now she could slip away despite what I did. And I'm not sure I could repeat the process; I'm beat."

His wings flapped uneasily, creating a small gale. After a quick measure at the skies, he looked back down at the girl in his arms.

I knew what he was thinking.

"Ra, do you think you could make it in this weather? It looks as if this is a beginning of a hurricane. You want to risk it?" I raised my eyebrows at him.

He said nothing.

My mouth opened in disbelief. "You really _are_ going to risk flying in this storm?! I know that you're a fairly decent flyer, but doing it now would be suicidal! Would you really like to die out there?" I pointed out to the darkening mass of ocean water that was raging from the wind and glacial raindrops. "Are you willing to have _Isis_ die with you?"

He froze, instantly rethinking his original plan. After a small moment of contemplation, he gave up and sighed in defeat. "What do you want to do?"

"We're going to have to hitchhike," I murmured determinedly.

"Hitchhike?" Ra echoed.

"Yes, like in the movies. We just lift one of our legs and wait for someone to pass by. It works every time for the girls, so it shouldn't be a problem for us."

He stared at me. "And how do you know this?"

"Because I stayed at Bella's house today and watched TV," I admitted.

He rolled his eyes and held Isis tighter. "Enough with this! We have to get to a hospital fast, and waiting for someone to come along the road and pick us up would take to much time. Besides, they'd probably think we were hookers."

I shrugged. "Fine. But no flying either."

He stomped his foot, sending a puddle to meet Tyler who was still out cold near his car. "Then what should we do?!" he demanded in frustration.

An idea came to me, forcing a rarely used smirk to slide up my face. I strolled over to the car and dragged both Jessica and Lauren out of it, placing them near Tyler. I took Bella from the opened trunk area and shut the door behind her, placing her gently on the back seat. She didn't wake up.

"That depends," I finally responded, sliding into the driver's seat. "How greatly are you against stealing a car?"

He got the message and almost smiled. "Two angel hijackers. I don't even think _God_ saw this one coming."

He got in the seat next to me after laying Isis next to Bella in the back. The car sputtered to life when I turned the key, which had been helpfully neglected on the seat, in the ignition. We were on the road shortly after retracting our wings; Ra seemed to have difficulty doing so at first because he hadn't deemed it necessary.

A lone bicyclist screamed and dove to the side of the road as we shot off, but I didn't pay much attention to him. I had already had my suspicions that my driving was going to be horrible, since I had never legally been out on the road before.

My fingers drummed against the steering wheel as we sped through the streets. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ra turn around to glance at the girls to see if they were alright. The worry he was feeling was almost tangible.

"It'll be alright. We'll make it," I reassured him.

"Yeah," he muttered. "But I'm not sure that Isis will."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Bella's P.o.V. **

White light and something soft around me. That was all I could feel as I slowly began to become aware of my surroundings. It was like a machine starting up, the inner workings turning rustily and the senses not quite used to what was going on. I scrunched my eyes tighter, not wanting to open them; from underneath my eyelids I could tell that the light was very bright and not something that I would generally like to be woken up to.

A voice. Was it my name that it said just now? Something cold and delicate brushed away the strands of hair that had escaped to the front of my face. They lingered longer then usual, the tips of what felt like a hand stroking my cheek gently.

"Oh, Bella," the voice said again, in soft disapproval. "I wouldn't have thought that you of all people would have fainted."

Knuckles brushed back and forth along my jaw line, ever so slight, leaving a tingling trail behind them.

My heart spluttered to life, making the hand and the kind voice freeze in place apprehensively.

"Bella?"

I opened my eyes in a daze and saw Edward sitting contentedly on a caramel colored chair. I was in a bed in the middle of a sky blue colored room, obnoxiously bright lighting overhead and what looked like an IV in the corner. A big window looked out into a dark night soaked with rain. I supposed that the yellow curtains were to bring a small amount of cheer into the depressingly bare room; aside from the still life portrait of a brown cloth near a bowl of freshly peeled oranges, the yellow curtains seemed to bring more personality in. If only the curtains didn't have smiley faces on them.

"Am I in hell?" I muttered after seeing the design. As bizarre as it was, I felt as if I was getting stared at; laughed and pointed, like I was on display. Darn smiley faces, up to no good at all. . .

He laughed, the sound of bells. "No, not hell; the hospital."

I sat up on the pillows and gave him a confused look. "Why?"

"You fainted," he said simply.

"I fainted?" I repeated in disbelief. My forehead felt a sharp pang, sending my hand up to rub it. Suddenly, I remembered the dark water on the pavement, nightmarishly dripping from—

"Where's Isis?" I demanded, throwing back the sheets of the bed. I almost succeeded in getting out of the room, but Edward held me on the bed firmly.

"She's in the next room, in critical condition." His eyes grew very sad and troubled.

"But . . . Isis is dead! I saw her with my own eyes, Edward; there was blood _everywhere—_"

"I fixed her . . . but just barely," he said quietly. I paused and settled back onto the pillows, watching him. Edward had a worry crease near one of his eyebrows, his hair dripping slightly onto the linoleum floor. He hardly noticed it until a rather impressive puddle formed at his feet.

Dimly surprised, he pointed a finger at it instinctively and let a stream of hot air evaporate the water. A haze that I often saw in Arizona was left behind, and even from the bed I could feel the inviting warmth.

"Can you teach me that?" I asked.

He looked at me incredulously. "I'm pretty sure humans aren't capable of doing that."

"Isn't there any human who can?"

"Nope." He smiled grimly.

"Fine. But can you warm me up at least? I'm really cold." I patted the space next to me to imply for him to sit down.

It wasn't until I registered is extremely wide eyes and his mouth falling open that I realized what I had said. I blushed furiously.

"No! Wait, I didn't mean it like that!" My face was burning, as was his. He looked away uncomfortably while a pale rose color bloomed in his cheeks; his eyes sparkled in what I assumed to be amusement.

Without looking at me, he extended his long, pale fingers until they grazed my shoulder. A tingling sensation of heat trickled down and seemed to fill my insides up. No longer freezing beneath the sheets, I sighed in contentment.

Edward continued to look away. He cupped his chin in one of his hands and stared thoughtfully into space after pulling away from me. What was going on with him? He wasn't acting very normal. Maybe he was still sick from this morning?

"Are you . . . alright?" I asked hesitantly.

He appeared to ignore me, too intent at staring at nothingness. The rain pounded harder against the glass in an aggressive fashion, the only source of noise in the room aside from the faint breaths coming from me. I was beginning to think he hadn't heard me when he finally answered.

"There's a lot of death here. The place positively _reeks _with the stench of it," he murmured. "But that's the problem; I've only been able to sense it. I haven't seen anyone yet. But it will only be a matter of time before I run into another angel."

"Another angel? That's great!" I said enthusiastically. "Guardians, right?"

"No; angels found hanging around hospitals are more commonly found in the death department." He paused, still staring into the air. "And that's what I'm worried about. It's been a while since I've conversed with an angel of death . . . Ra is another guardian, but with Death Bringers it isn't the same. We're quite . . . different."

"How?" I asked. He closed his eyes in defeat.

"Certain types of Death Bringers are assigned to make sure that their human dies the way they are supposed to."

"Can I have an explanation?" I said apologetically.

He turned to me in a grumpy way, looking harried. "Say a murderer walked into this room, and I was a death angel. I was told that you were to die due to a stroke, not due to murder. I couldn't protect you from harm; all I could do would be to divert the murderer's attention onto someone else to ensure that you died the right way."

I chewed this over before speaking. "I don't like the sound of these Death Bringers. Either way you're going to die; they just get to choose it."

Edward laughed bitterly. "It could have been_ so_ close. . ."

"What?"

His frown deepened, and he resumed his unfocused gaze. "I was very close to being a Death Bringer. If I had been, I could have been prolonging your death to fit God's plan." His face turned very soft, but very sad. "I don't think that I'd be able to live like that. . . I don't think I'd be able to watch you die in _any_ way. I care for you much more then I should."

"I like you more then I should too," I admitted.

"But I think I might like you more then you like me," he said quietly. I was about to argue that that was not true, when he decided to go further in his angel discussion. "That's the type of Death Bringer called a "guidance angel". There's another, rather disgusting species."

"And their called?" I asked curiously.

"They shouldn't even be referred to as angels, to be honest—Morte angels are actually demons," he whispered darkly. "In the Death Bringer area, there are only two species: guidance angels and Morte angels. Compared to the guidance angel, who has the standard wings but with perhaps a darker coloring, the Morte angels are very similar to devils. Pointed horns, red eyes and maybe even an ability to possess people. But Morte angels," he hesitated, not liking what he was about to say, but said it anyway, "are the angels of people who are about to sin. _Gravely_ sin. Murder."

"Murderers don't deserve someone looking out for them," I muttered unhappily. "What did murderers do for society besides tear families apart?"

"It's screwy, but God isn't the only one who can send people in and out of the realm of the dead. Satan can too," Edward confessed. "And he sends Morte angels . . ."

"What about guidance angels? Are they as bad as Morte angels?"

"No, their okay, I guess. A little odd, but alright."

It became very awkward in the tiny little hospital room; we had run out of things to discuss. Edward remained silent for half an hour while I lay in bed, contemplating something. I asked him once if it had been him who had brought me here, and he told me how he and Ra had to steal the car at the beach to get here. It had been an ordeal when they raced one of the ambulances and had to clear a few things with one of the nurses, but everything pulled through in the end.

"So Isis is in intensive care?" I asked him. We had finally gotten around to talking about her.

Edward seemed to fall back into his state of despaired silence at the mention of her name. "Yes . . . Ra hasn't left her side in a while. I'm really worried about my friend, Bella . . . I've never seen him like this. I can only imagine how it must feel to be in his position at the moment . . . he loved her, Bella." Edward's gloomy green eyes twinkled as he glanced at me. "He loved her with all his heart. And she's on a hospital bed, _dying _. . ." He sunk his face into his hand dejectedly.

"Edward, you're the reason she's here. You're the reason she's here and alive. If you hadn't helped Ra out, Isis would still be dead right now—"

"Don't you get it?" He snapped suddenly. I drew back, taken off guard. He looked as if something invisible was stabbing him: his face was twisted into an angry and pained scowl. "_I didn't help her_! All I did was fix her head damage—Isis is still going to die! All I did was extend her life _slightly_!"

"But . . . what about . . .?" I started. Edward shook his head and made a muffled sound behind his hand.

"I did my best, but it wasn't enough . . . I _know_ that she's going to die sometime soon. Ra is still hopeful though, he has too much faith in my healing abilities . . . but I . . . I just feel as if I'm failing my friend. I feel as if I'm letting him down when he needs me the most, and I . . ." He broke off his whisper and settled for hiding his eyes from me.

"You what?" I asked softly, placing one of my hands on his shoulders. I felt him shudder away from my touch, but I leaned forward to keep my hand on him. Unsatisfied with only a hand, I slipped out of bed and sat on the arm of the caramel arm chair.

Edward wouldn't face me. Hesitantly, afraid that he might push me away, I slid my arms around him and hugged him close to my chest. He didn't move from my touch.

Through the cloth of our shirts, I could feel the warmth of his skin and the racing, soft beats of his heart. Or maybe that was my own overreacting pulse? A spark of intensity came back and lingered between us as we froze, wondering what the next move for the other would be.

Finally, I broke the silence.

"Edward . . ." I murmured. In a friendly gesture, my fingers brushed his jaw, guiding his face to look up at me.

He very willingly obliged, and turned his head upwards. The startlingly green of his wide eyes scorched into my retinas as the world turned slowly. Suddenly, the friction turned from comforting to sexual. Suddenly, I was immensely aware of the fact that I was right next to his body; even more intensely aware of the heat of it, the delicious smell of his shoulders and neck. He froze up, probably wondering what I was thinking. Or maybe he was thinking along the same lines.

Rain was buffeting the windows noisily in the background: the light flickered when a growl of thunder went through the dark Forks skyline.

It might have been the position that we were in that made me react the way I did; after all, we were inches away. But something deep inside me awakened . . . realization? As I smelt the sweet breath of the guy who had saved my life, I realized that maybe I liked him as much more then a friend. Much, _much_ more then a friend, I realized, when I spotted how smooth his lavender colored lips looked from this distance.

Maybe Isis's assumption had been right?

Was I in love with Edward?

I had denied this theory many times before, due to the fact he might not feel the same way. I couldn't deny it anymore. I was desperately, hopefully, irrevocably in love with the guy—I just couldn't believe how much time it had taken for me to realize it. This beautiful, perfect boy had saved my life on more then one occasion—or perhaps my virginity would be more correct. He was the only person who saw me for me, not for some oddly dressed person to be gawked at.

Edward was right there, in front of me, taunting my senses with those wide green eyes of his. A surge of something desperate overcame me and took over, my common sense completely obliterated and shattered.

And that's when I kissed him.


	11. Love and Death

**Edward's P.o.V. **

My God . . . Bella kissed me. She kissed me. My mind couldn't comprehend it at all; but my body to charge and reacted for my brain. Heart spluttering wildly in my chest, I felt my eyelids close. My fingers wove themselves through her hair and brought her face closer to mine, my lips pleading for more. More passion, more heat, more love. More Bella. But somehow, it still wasn't enough. I needed more.

The room vanished beneath me, all around. All that existed as she and I, and the delicious kiss we were sharing. All that mattered was being there with her, telling her how I felt: that I loved her with all my heart and soul. Hopefully I was projecting that into the kiss.

I felt something sweet and wet brush my bottom lip hesitantly. Her tongue. I opened my mouth eagerly and accepted it. I savored the inside of her mouth, lapping up the taste of something warm and spicy. Cinnamon? I ran the tip of my tongue over her molars. Yes, it was cinnamon. And man, I had never thought that a spice would get me so riled up. Maybe the cinnamon tasted amazing when it was in Bella's mouth.

I was starting to get really heated up over the kiss; but even though it was hot, I let myself fall into the passion. Bella leaned on top of me, pushing me to the arm of the chair. Our tongues danced and played with each other, begging for a little more of the flavor the other possessed. She had wrapped her arms around my neck, welding me to her. Not that that I was planning on ever leaving this embrace; it had been a long time since I felt this good. It had been a long time since I felt as if I truly had a reason to continue existing, even if I was dead.

Playfully, I nipped her bottom lip with my front teeth. I felt her stiffen and moan. My groin reacted to that sound and I felt a definite straining against my pants. I wanted her to be pleasured more. A sudden idea emerged in my head. I let my tongue retreat from her mouth and licked my lips: they were wet with Bella's taste. Delicious. But I still wanted more. 

I took her neck in my mouth and suckled. My hands went down from her hair to her hips, dragging her forward onto my lap. I heard another moan of delight, but after a split second I realized that it had come from me: Bella was now sitting right on top of my erection. It felt so good and yet it seemed to taunt me. I was pressed up so close against Bella, every inch of me trying to be with her. If only we could be closer, if only I could get inside her. That suggestion was approved by my groin, now starting to stand straight against my zipper.

I felt a familiar tingle starting to swirl inside of me. It was my magic, but I really didn't need it at the moment. I was too focused on her neck. I licked the spot above her collarbone softly, getting another scent in my head. Freesia. Her skin tasted like the scent of freesia, an entire field of it. I gave another lick, this time slow and heated. My lips traced the line of a blue vein running up her neck. If I was careful, I could even feel the blood rushing beneath the pale membrane.

My teeth bit down lightly, taking in more skin. I sucked, nipped and licked for what seemed like an eternity. Bella was holding me closer, urging me on. This was too much to endure. . . .

My wings burst from my back, since my magic was no longer under control. They arched over us, a canopy of snowy white feathers. I stopped suckling on Bella's neck to look upwards at them. How had that happened? I was disappointed in myself. I thought that I could control them no matter what happened, and now look at me. Fully spread out and powerless because of a mortal. And the strange thing was that I liked it. It felt as if I was being honest with her, like I was sharing my whole self with her as we kissed.

Something wet trailed up my neck. I stifled an aroused groan and looked helplessly onto Bella, who had taken responsibility of pleasuring me. Dear Lord . . . I couldn't hold out much longer. She was just too amazing. My eyes shut tight as I selfishly enjoyed her licks against my skin. This had to be heaven . . . and if it wasn't, I didn't want to be any place besides this.

A hand skimmed under my shirt, feeling around me. It rested on my over-reacting heart and caressed it with cold fingers. A soft tugging began on my earlobe as Bella took it in her mouth. Her mouth was warm and wet against my ear, and with each stroke of her tongue she ran her hand up and down my chest. I couldn't take it anymore.

The magic I had been desperately holding back on exploded out of my hands, engulfing us in a light purple cloud. A flickering feeling of weightlessness, then the cushion of the chair returned under me. I had almost transported us someplace. Bella's mouth was still on mine, this time gentler. I gave a little growl and deepened it, pulling her even closer to me then before. That cinnamon and freesia scent was driving me wild. I wondered if normal human guys acted like this, or if it was just me.

The top buttons of my shirt were coming undone: Bella was undoing them with one hand. Oh my God. My instincts were screaming as she worked. How far was this kiss going to get? My heart was thundering.

I was a virgin. I'd been one for over a century. And yet I was going to loose that in a _hospital room_? I had never seen that situation as a possibility. But oh God . . . Bella was fantastic. She bent her head down onto my chest and kissed me on the place over my heart.

I loved her so much. So, _so_ much. But would this actually work out in the end? Depression settled in, swift and merciless.

That was right . . . I couldn't hold her as a lover. I had to protect her as a guardian. I wasn't meant to fall in love with her, just to heal her heart. But when I left, would I end up breaking it? The thought of leaving Bella alone for someone else to embrace was an inner blow to me; I felt hollow inside just imagining it.

Bella's fingers pulled my head down to meet her lips. That cinnamon taste again. I didn't want this to end.

She was so beautiful, so strong, and so fearless. She needed a human to be with. She needed someone who hadn't messed up and lost his life already. I felt an unfamiliar sting start to form near my eyes. All because I was her angel . . . all because I would be sent away eventually, I would never be able to hold her, touch her. We could never be together. I could never have her. We couldn't have each other at all. Our lives were entwined, but we were never destined to be more then friends.

All my human life I had wanted to fall in love, but it wasn't until was dead and couldn't have the woman that I finally met her. Maybe I wasn't destined for love at all. Maybe all I was here for was to watch over Bella and her family, make sure that her life is as happy as it could be.

My heart ached in agony. Never a sweet and tender moment could we share, because I could never grow old and die with her.

An image of Ra came into my mind again. Dear God . . . Ra and Isis. Another reason to not fall even more in love with Bella. Would I allow myself to end up so in _pain_ like Ra was? How would I feel if it was Bella in Isis's position? Beaten up and dying while all I could do was watch. . . .

I was terrified. I couldn't love Bella. Not when all the relationship would do would be to cause pain. The strong prickling sensation behind my eyes started up again. It was getting blurry to see. What was happening to me?

I pushed the strange sensation to the side and ignored it. All that mattered was that I _couldn't _love Bella. I'd have to tell her that we were better off as friends. But what would I tell my heart? That it was best to let myself be miserable just because it benefited Bella? Yes, I was going to have to waltz away from the memories of her and stop feeling the way I did.

As her lips caressed mine, I begged for her to realize that I couldn't be with her. I couldn't hold her or touch her or kiss her the way I wanted. I couldn't allow myself to put Bella and myself into pain like that.

_We can't be together, ever. We have no future. We can never kiss like this, or hug or keep each other warm. I can't let your heart break. I can't let something like this keep you unhappy. I can't dream about being with you. I can't—_

"I can't love you," I whispered, breaking away from her. My throat felt tight, and I looked away from her eyes.

"What?" Bella asked. I heard pain in her voice. "Why?"

"I can't love you," I repeated. My wings wilted downwards, unable to lift themselves. Just like my heart. _Must be brave. I have to save her from heart break. _

"But . . . why?" she asked quietly. I felt a hand graze my cheek, but I shuddered away from it.

I didn't answer her; I was too preoccupied with the strange prickle behind my eyes was. It was really blurry now. This had never happened before. _I have to be strong._

"I love you, Edward."

My breath hitched in my chest. That did it. I couldn't go through with this. I was off the chair and at the door in a split second. My wings retracted, and I had my back to her. This was too much for my heart to bear. I felt myself collapsing inside. _I love you too, Bella_.

I felt myself wheel around, the prickling feeling behind my eyes replaced by a strange moisture on my cheeks. Tears? I had never cried before. They were hot and sad, creating trails behind them.

"I can't love you, Bella," I choked out. And I fled from the room, only too aware of the broken brown eyes I had left behind. And the broken heart I now held tight inside my body.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Bella's P.o.V. **

I watched him leave me until I couldn't see him anymore. I couldn't believe it. The first boy I'd ever told I loved him, and he took off like a startled rabbit. And he said that he _couldn't _love me. Why did he say that?

My eyes trailed over my shirt, wrinkled and slightly up. He had certainly seemed willing enough to kiss me. Dear Lord . . . that kiss. Was it because of that kiss that made him bolt? I had been extremely forward, I admit. But that kiss was something else. It had to have been the best first kiss anyone could ever receive.

I blushed. If we had gotten anywhere farther then that, we'd probably have ended up on the bed. Maybe that's why he left; he had been a little afraid of going that far. 

_I can't love you_.

How . . . how could he say that? Didn't he feel anything for me? Tears started to well up. That had to be it; he loved me as a best friend and I had totally overstepped my boundaries by doing that. God, I was such an _idiot_ to think Edward could ever love me as more then a friend.

And . . . he cried. Edward had cried as he said that. I had never once seen him cry. This had to be one of the hardest things he'd ever gone through.

I made an angel cry. I was such a horrible person. No wonder he ran away. I felt like crawling under the chair and staying there for years.

"Bella?"

My heart leapt. "Edward—?" I stopped when I realized that it was only Ra.

"Nope, just me," he said. "Is it okay if I come in?" He eyed me cautiously.

"Yeah . . . come right in." I looked out the stormy window as the door shut quietly behind him. He sat on the edge of the bed, facing me.

Ra looked awful. He was ashen to an almost undead degree, and his hair was matted from the rain. Under his sad green eyes there were heavy circles. He looked years older. His wings were hanging limply to his back. They reminded me of Edward's, before he left.

"How's Isis?" I asked him softly.

"She's going to die tonight. The doctors have done all they can for her, but she has suffered too much to survive the injury." His face crumpled. "Edward warned me that this would happen. But it hurts so much more when it's actually happening."

"I'm so sorry," I said. "She was such a nice person, and she only got this way because she was with me." I felt another pang of anger at Mike. That bastard. That _murderer. _

"Edward says he has a theory about the person who did it."

"Really?" I was surprised. "You mean there's a reason he's the devil's spawn?"

Ra cringed. "You're close, but not that close. He thinks that there is a Morte angel involved, possessing the man who did it."

That would explain everything. In all my wildest dreams, I had never actually thought that Mike was possessed by a demon. I only thought that he was pure evil. But to hear that he was _really _possessed by something was a shocker. A shocker that seemed to sum his behavior up.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. Ra gave me a look of sympathy. "Can you tell me what happened between you and Edward?"

I gulped: it was hard to talk because my throat was starting to get tight at the thought of him. Slowly, I shook my head. I couldn't tell anyone what had happened.

Ra nodded. "I understand how it is. But you do know that he loves you, right?"

I frowned. "No, he doesn't."

"You're kidding me, right? It's obvious that he does."

I sighed in exasperation. I was going to have to tell Ra what had happened whether I liked it or not. He seemed determined to find out more details of what had transpired. "No, he told me he '_couldn't_.'"

Ra looked taken aback. "You're saying that he said he couldn't love you?"

I felt tears start to form. They gave him all the answer he needed. "Ah, I see . . ."

"So anyway, before he took off, Edward told me that he kept feeling a presence of an angel besides you." I mentioned this as a desperate attempt to change the subject.

Ra took the hint, and dropped it. "Yeah, I've run into one of them recently. An old . . . _friend_ of ours from Angel Academy. Named Alastair. He followed Edward around like a lost puppy." He laughed. "I would love to see the look on his face when he sees him around here."

"Does he not like him?"

"He finds him quite annoying; there was very little peace with Alastair around. But what does he expect from a fourteen year old?"

"Alastair is _fourteen_?"

"You're never too young to die, Bella." Ra frowned. "I had thought that I was too young to die at first. But I got over it quickly."

"You never told me . . . how you. . . ." I had trouble saying it. He seemed so alive; he couldn't be dead.

"How I died?"

"Yeah."

He laid back on the bed and stretched out comfortably. "I got hit by a truck."

My mouth fell open. Geez, how could he be so calm about this?! The guy had been killed by a freaking truck, for crying out loud!

"Yeah, it was a bloody death." He nodded. "I had knocked a kid who was going to get hit out of the way. Unfortunately, I got the impact. My family was devastated, and I was only able to see the funeral before I was hauled off to purgatory. It was a scary place. So big, so airless, and so . . . so _empty_. It was as if Earth suddenly lost its weather and its color. But my fear turned into excitement when I discovered flight." Ra fluffed his wings proudly. "That's when I literally flew into Edward. He had been around longer then I had, so he showed me the ropes. I'll admit, the nudity in purgatory wasn't my thing, so I decided to keep the clothes I died in."

"And Edward decided not to?"

Ra rolled his eyes. "I doubt that he would have wanted to keep them, after the—" He stopped, looking guilty. "It isn't my place to tell you how he died. He'll tell you himself if he wants."

I scowled. "As if he'll tell me now."

He blinked. "Was what happened _that_ bad? I could have sworn that I saw tears on his face."

"It was bad . . . very bad. I made him cry," I admitted. "I, erm, did something that I shouldn't have and he ended up telling me that he couldn't love me." _Right after I told him I loved him._

Ra's eyes grew soft. "You kissed him, right?"

I concentrated on one of the hideous smiley faces on the window curtain. "Yes."

"He'll come around some day," he said lightly. "Trust me, if I know Edward, he won't like letting you down like that."

"He made him run out of the room crying!"

"And don't you think that he would be a little less emotional if he _didn't_ love you?" Ra crossed his arms as a symbol of defiance. "Saying he couldn't love you didn't mean he _didn't _love you."

A felt a little hopeful despite myself. "Really?"

"Yep." Ra smiled. "All you have to do is keep on trying to get him to see reason. Love is very powerful. Of course, I'm not so lucky with love myself, so what do I know?"

"Someone as kind as you won't go to hell. You'll see Isis in heaven."

"I still haven't gotten her to believe in God though."

A sudden idea popped into my head. I remembered Isis telling me that she had been having dreams about Ra. Could it be possible to get her to believe by sending her a dream? Even if it was the last dream she ever had, it was worth a shot.

"Ra, is it possible to send a dream to someone?"

He blinked, looking startled. "Yes, I suppose it's fairly easy. Why?"

"I think I know a way for you to complete your mission." I smiled. This had to work.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Edward's P.o.V.**

I stopped outside of a door on the farthest side of the hospital. The places where the tears had came down started to itch. My hands rubbed away the feeling. Unfortunately, I still felt like my heart was missing.

I wasn't really sure why I had come to this particular door—something just drew me to it. I had an inkling that it had to do with the presence I had felt earlier. Strangely, I wasn't as put off as before at the thought of confronting the newcomer. Better to meet the angel now then later on. It was also a good distraction.

I hesitantly opened the door and took a look around. White walls, white blinds, a bed with a sleeping blond girl in it, and a blue Eeyore in her arms. She has to be only three years old. No one else, mortal or angel alike was present. Just the little girl, sleeping soundly.

"What is she doing here?" I wondered aloud.

"I could ask you the same question," a voice said from behind me. I almost had a stroke, but disguised my shock by turning around to face the speaker.

I cringed. Oh _crap._ It was _him_. I thought I gave him the slip when I came out of purgatory.

"Edward!" Alastair said happily. "Long time no see!"

_Not long enough. _

He ran up and hugged me tight, constricting the air out of my lungs. I had forgotten how strong he was; he'd beaten me in every wrestling match we ever had.

Alastair was still a lanky blond, same as always. His hair stuck out all over the place, a style that he had started using when he came to purgatory. A style that was almost exactly like my own. He was one of the few angels that held onto their clothes through purgatory: blue jeans and a sports tee shirt much to large for him.

"Why are you here, Edward?" he asked curiously. He blinked his chocolate brown eyes. They were startlingly similar to Bella's. My heart twanged.

"I felt a presence," I muttered. My eyes traveled back to the girl on the bed. "Who is she? Your human?"

Alastair followed my gaze and nodded. "Yeah . . . she's also my sister. She has cancer." He stared at her sadly. "She's going to die soon."

"What was her name?"

"Rosalie."

"Rosalie . . . do you think she is strong enough to be an angel, or will she need to take a growth potion?"

"Growth potion, definitely. It would be really odd to have a toddler guardian angel."

I laughed. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Being a guidance angel is hard when it comes to someone you care about," Alastair said moodily. "It's as if it's a test itself for you to make sure that _somehow_ the person dies. You can't stop them from doing it."

"I know . . ." I placed a hand on his shoulder to be kind.

"That's why I always felt better around you, you know," Alastair added. "You always seemed as if you could stop death, no matter the cause. It made me happy."

No one could stop death; I had proven that when I had failed at helping Isis. But I didn't want to bring him down any more then necessary.

Seeing no reason to stick around any longer, I turned around and prepared to face an awkward moment with Bella. But a hand grabbed me from behind and held me there.

"Edward, I forgot to tell you something. Before I left purgatory, I got some news that might capture your attention."

"What is it?" My eyebrows furrowed.

"There is a Morte angel in your midst. And he has an eye on your human."

Mike. I _knew _it. "Let me guess; the Morte is possessing a human?"

Alastair gave a grave nod. "Yep: but not just one, a whole group of them."

So that's why everyone who had attacked Bella was so evil. Only an exceptionally powerful Morte angel could be behind a group possession though. I had never heard of an angel doing this before, Morte or not.

"There's more," he continued. Alastair paused, hesitant to go on.

"Come on, tell me," I urged him.

"We believe that Satan is behind it."

No . . . the world shattered. It wasn't just any average Morte after my Bella. It was Satan himself.

"But . . . why would he . . .?" I whispered.

Alastair shook his head. "We don't know. But Satan works in strange ways; we have an idea that he might just want another harem girl."

"She's only a seventeen year old!" I argued. My Bella, my beautiful, smart Bella. And _he_ wanted her? I'd never let him have her. Not without a fight.

"Do you think that matters to the Prince of Darkness? That will just add to his high." He rolled his eyes. "Just keep a look out, alright? I don't want anything to happen to you or your human."

"Alright. I'll watch my back." And especially Bella's.

I raced down the hallway, leaving Alastair behind. I had to get to her. I had to protect her.

Whether or not being a guardian broke my heart, Bella was in trouble. She needed me.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Bella's P.o.V. **

Ra had gone off to execute the plan—which we had christened 'Plan Dream'. It wasn't very creative, but it was the best we could do on a moments notice. I waited in silence, wondering how one could send dreams to another. Would it be like the purple magic Edward had? Or did Ra have another magic color?

I pondered. Perhaps every angel had a different color when they used magic; God could tell who was who by color coordinating them. A clever idea and a pretty cool one as well. If I was an angel, what color would my magic be? Probably black. Everyone automatically assumed that black would be my favorite color. Once, not too long ago, I would have said that my favorite color was brown. All warm and fuzzy.

But the old me was dead now. I was a new person, a person who was in seemingly endless mourning.

And yet, I couldn't help but feel as if I was changing inside. As if some green had burst through the darkness, illuminating the ghost of my past life. Green like Edward's eyes, wise and beautiful.

He was so kind to me. He was one of the only people who I could trust and care about. Even if he didn't want to love me, he was still falling in love. And I loved him too. _Why_ was he being so difficult about it?

He was changing me, and I couldn't deny it any longer. The winter I had taken refuge in was melting slowly away into a long waited spring. I no longer wanted to hide in the darkness, but come out and stay with Edward in the light. Why stay with black when green was closer to him? He told me once before that I looked beautiful in it. My fingers reached up towards my neck, feeling around for my velvet choker.

It was gone. I looked around the room frantically, wondering where on Earth it was. I came to a conclusion almost immediately: my klutzy disposition had cost me the choker. I lost Edward's gift! I had to find it right away. I dropped to my knees and crawled on the floor, ducking my hand underneath the bed. No luck. I tried flipping open the sheets, willing it to be there. It wasn't. Finally, I inspected the chair. Nothing but a bobby pin, two nickels and a bus token.

I couldn't believe it. I had _lost_ it. I lost his gift to me! I was just about to let loose another wave of tears, but I was stopped by a pair of hands gliding around my waist.

I shrieked and tried to fight away. The hands just got stronger until arms eventually had to restrain me. I managed to drive the heel of my shoe into my attacker's groin. "Get the hell off of me, you—!"

"Bella, it's me!" a voice gasped out. I spun to witness Edward clutching himself in pain, his eyes watering. Oops.

"Oh. Sorry," I apologized. He nodded slightly, his mouth tight to keep from crying out. He limped over to rest on the bed. I had definitely used great aim with my hell; I winced inwardly. Great going, Bella. He was really going to leap into your arms now that you may have kicked off his manhood.

"How's Isis doing?" he croaked. He was still rubbing himself.

"She's going to die tonight. However Ra is going to get her to believe in God before she goes."

That stopped him. His eyes widened. "How exactly is he going to achieve that?"

"He's going to send her a dream. Talk to her while she sleeps, you know."

"How did he come up with that one?"

"I gave him the idea." I lifted my chin up, insulted.

"It was brilliant." He smiled a little. "However, attacking me like that was not needed."

I blushed. "Again, I'm sorry."

"No, that's alright; its good to know that you can defend yourself."

We sat there quietly, not looking at each other. What was I going to say to him? That I loved him and didn't care if the relationship wouldn't work? The air grew unbearably thick and heavy with tension. I had to say something.

"Uh . . . were there any other angels around?"

"Yes, I saw someone familiar. His name was Alastair."

"The fourteen year old, right?"

He arched an eyebrow. "Ra told you?"

"Yeah, he told me that there was a boy who followed you around like you were someone to worship." I grinned. He groaned.

"Ra also told me how he . . . died."

"Ah," Edward said. "Yes, he doesn't seem so broody as a dead person should be, right?"

"He seemed pretty accepting about his lack of life, yes," I admitted. "He wouldn't tell me how _you_ died though."

He smiled. "Good. Because I'm not going to tell you and I hope you never find out."

I opened my mouth to argue, but the door suddenly opened. A doctor came in, clipboard in hand, and glanced at us. He was a handsome man. The doctor had kind eyes, a strange butterscotch color that matched his hair.

"Hello, Bella Swan?" he asked me. I nodded. "I'm Doctor Carlisle Cullen. You seem fit as a fiddle. That's good news. It was very lucky for you that this young man brought both you and that other woman in here." He gave a stunning smile at Edward.

"How is she, Dr. Cullen?" he asked.

Dr. Cullen was silent for a minute. "I'm sorry, but Isis Bonner passed on in her sleep just five minutes ago."

My heart stopped beating for a full second. "What?"

"She has moved on. I'm sorry." The doctor moved back to the door, then looked over his shoulder. "You're free to leave though."

"We'll go in a minute," Edward assured him. Dr. Cullen nodded and left us alone.

Without the doctor in the room, I was free to break down with dignity. I anchored my forehead in my hands and started to cry. I needed to purify myself somehow.

"She's dead, she's dead," I moaned. Edward held me close, and I sniffled against him.

"Shhh . . . Bella. Yes, she's gone from this Earth. But imagine, she must be in a happier place now. Ra is looking after her. And she can fly, don't forget that," he joked.

"Is it fun being an angel?" I asked quietly. My head started to swim.

"It's only truly fun when you get to meet your human."

"Edward . . .?"

"Yes, Bella?"

"Take me home," I muttered. And then the world went black.


	12. Trouble with Wings

**(A/N holy crap, I'm so sorry for the long wait. I had a lot of things going on, and I had to re-do this chapter FIVE FLIPPING TIMES in order to get the mood correct. And the sad part is, I still feel as if it's too OOC and isn't very realistic. –Shrugs- Ah well, I did the best I could. I'm kind of cruel, because when I had wanted this chapter to scare the crap out of people, all I did was laugh when I read it. But I read about this happening to a school outcast (an actual news article) and decided that it was such a pure demonstration of evil, I NEEDED to use it.**

**I made a myspace page for the story, as you will see in my profile. :) Fans who want to promote Heaven Help Me may add it. If you can't get onto the profile for it at first, try going onto mine so you can see it—it's the first one on my top friends with an angel as the icon. (It's adorable XD) **

**I'm going on vacation (Disney World, where Satan aka Mickey Mouse will be there), so hopefully something funny will happen while I'm there so I can bring more humor to this dreadfully depressing story line. :/ Whatever happened to my usually light writing?? Where did THAT go?? **

**Do you know how many reviewers are like zombies? THOUSANDS. I am not kidding. I get the usual review from everyone: "UPDATE SOON. IT IS SO GOOD. WHAT WILL HAPPEN. BYE. SORRY FOR WASTING YOUR TIME LOL" -- Cute. Real cute, guys. Try to describe what you felt and thought in the chapter, not that you'll die if I don't update. Because then I might be tempted to discontinue the story if you don't shut up. Yes, I'm cruel—but I have a thing against whiners. **

**Enjoy the story if you can. Things will get more and more dramatic towards the sad, miserable ending of this fanfiction. Whoops, did I reveal anything?) **

A voice wavered in and out of my mind, seeming determined to be spoken too low for my ears to catch. "Yes! For the last time, your son is responsible for her death!" The voice was extremely agitated, a fact that even held prominent in the sharp, short silence as it waited for the other line's reply.

"No! Listen to me, Chief Newton," the voice hissed suddenly. "You're simply too dense to know that your son is possessed by the Devil! He and his friends cornered a woman by the name of Isabella Swan and unintentionally murdered an innocent bystander!"

Another pause, this time shorter then the first. A loud crash came from the kitchen—it sounded as if something broke due to a massive force. "Accident, my_ ass!_" the voice snarled. "Yes, they might have not intentionally wanted to murder her, but they _did_ kill a girl! Isis Bonner—look her up in the obituaries some time, why don't you?"

Again, a short intermission before the voice started up again. "Proof?" the voice muttered, seeming caught off guard. "I was the one who beat your son off of Bella when he came at her with a broken bottle—is that enough proof for you? You're the police; arrest him right now, or I swear that I'll drag this to Supreme Court f I have to. What kind of man attacks a woman? Someone who is not a man at all, I assure you. Good day, sir."

A sharp click of a phone being set down pulled me out of my daze. It was followed by a padding of feet against carpet: coming to my door.

The door squeaked open. "Bella?" Edward called softly. "I made you breakfast; hope you like it." There was an intake of breath, a nervous hesitation. "Bella?" I felt a weight on the side of the bed as he sat down near me.

My eyes opened, and I smiled at him sleepily. "Hey, morning bird."

He smiled a little in return. "Hello, night owl—you have circles under your eyes. But that's to be expected, considering. . . ." His shoulders slumped, and he looked away from me sadly.

Ra and Isis; they had died last night. One of my new friends and one of Edward's best had decided to leave the world forever. My heart felt a pang deep in my chest, which grew and pulsed like a living thing. See? God was cruel to take away the people you loved. Never the bad ones, always the good.

I inched over to Edward and rested my head on his shoulder. He stiffened under me. "I'm sorry about Ra," I muttered. "The pain washes away and fades out every now and again—you just have to get used to the idea really quickly. Of course, that's coming from a mourner, so that advice might be a little unwise to listen to."

"Ra?" he asked. He sounded almost confused, as if he had no idea who I was talking about.

"Yes, Ra. You know, one of your best friends. The one who disappeared last night," I reminded him.

The tips of his ears turned red. "Yes, I know him—I just was thinking of something else that happened." His green eyes darted to the floor shyly.

Immediately, my cheeks ignited. So _that's _what he was talking about. That kiss we shared danced back and flaunted itself off in front of me, teasing and torturing me with all its heated glory. Last night I had told Edward I loved him, with disastrous results. A flood of regret washed over me. I'd been so stupid to blurt it out. . . .

But wait—why was Edward more concerned with the kiss instead of Ra?

The unspoken question seemed to hover in the air and become tangible, because Edward immediately snapped his face up to look at me, a faint incredulity spelled out in his eyebrows position.

"Ra came to my dream last night and told me that everyone was okay; that Isis was in purgatory and he was going to heaven. He also told me that he was going to try and talk to God about letting him stay with Isis so she doesn't run into trouble. Ra seems pretty sure that God won't say no to a lover." He smiled a little, pleased for his friend. "He also wanted me to thank you for thinking so quickly that night. If it hadn't been for you, Ra wouldn't have moved on to a better place."

"Oh," I responded. We fell into a comfortable silence: Edward sitting lightly in a pair of blue Tripp pants and matching military coat. He fidgeted with a button absentmindedly. I could only presume that his thoughts still strayed to last night in the hospital room. My lips tingled at the memory; wanting and sad.

How could I not have him? I wanted him, and I knew he wanted me. I'd just have to make him see that he did. Ra had told me that Edward loved me; he just thought that an angel and a human couldn't be together permanently. But it didn't matter if I couldn't have him forever—it wasn't as if I wouldn't die eventually and meet up with him. He was just being so overly and unnecessarily stubborn.

But how would I go convince him? I pondered that question as I finally scooted off the bed to see the breakfast Edward had mentioned. He followed suit, trailing four or so feet behind me. It was almost like he knew what I was thinking: he eyed me warily, suspicion rolling off his aura.

The breakfast he had made was, of course, delicious. Gourmet meal, actually. I tried not to marvel at his skills—he had cheated by using magic, after all. But I did make satisfied comments on it every now and again, telling him it could have been better if he had handmade it. He argued that he'd probably poison me by mistake.

"Ha! You're only making up excuses because you can't cook without cheating!" I teased, grinning.

He blushed. "Okay, maybe that has something to do with it—just eat the meal and be grateful I made it at all." He stiffened suddenly, his green irises widening. His grip on the paper cup he had been recently pouring milk into tightened: the paper indented sharply. A ragged breathing shuddered out of his chest.

"Edward?" I asked, alarmed. I started to get up from my chair. Was it possible for an angel to get a heart attack?

His hand came up to stop me, and I halted in place. "It's alright," he gasped out. He attempted a smile, but it came out as a grimace. He set the cup onto the table. "Excuse me a moment." He then rushed out of the room, taking off before I could object.

What the hell had that been about? I took a tiny sip of orange juice and couldn't help but worry; hadn't he mentioned being sick yesterday? Perhaps his illness was serious. But I was confidant in his ability to heal. He was a healing angel, after all, so the least he could do was ward off the common cold. I heard a loud retching sound coming from the bathroom and winced. Alright, that didn't sound like a cold. And the soft whimper that followed it confirmed my suspicion.

I ditched my breakfast and sprinted over to the bathroom door, rapping twice. "Edward? Is it alright if I come in?"

I heard a groan, painful and loud. Another throwing up sound came after. I took that as my que to go right on in. The door knob came easily under my touch, and the door creaked open. My feet kissed the cold tiles, sending a shiver up my spine. The room had seemed to fill up with purple smoke, a sign that Edward had used his magic. It was too thick to see him in. The only indication that he was nearby was when he coughed.

I waved some of the fog away and revealed him. He was sitting with his head hovering over the toilet, looking as if he was driving some weird porcelain steering wheel. His eyes were watery, with red splotches under them. He looked as if he'd suffered under the hands of a Red Hot.

"Edward?!" I rubbed his back. He groaned and ralphed again. The smell was starting to get to me—I gingerly pressed down on the flusher to empty it of its contents before he could start up again.

Finally, he pulled away and spat into the water. "Thanks," he choked out. A faint sheen of sweat rested on his forehead.

"What was that just now? Did you catch a virus, or what?" I eyed him carefully and scooted a little away from him. Whatever he had could be contagious, after all.

"It isn't a human illness." He closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall, taking a deep breath. "It has something to do with my wings. They aren't . . . working correctly."

"Aren't working?" I repeated, flabbergasted. "How is that possible?"

He shook his head slightly. "I don't know. First my mind reading, now my wings. My angelic powers are weakening with every day, and last night must have short circuited my powers. I used _so much_ of my magic. . . ." His Adam's apple bobbed and he looked as if he was ready for round two of the barf routine. But the moment subsided and he settled back against the wall again. "Anyway, my wings won't come out. It feels as if they're trapped in a jar of molasses."

I laughed and ignored the venomous glare he gave me. "I'm sorry, but . . . molasses?"

He frowned. "Yes; it feels as if they're stuck to something thick, and the lid of the jar won't let them come out."

"So basically, you're caged?"

"Not funny." The tips of his ears turned pink.

I grinned. "Sure, sure." I ran a hand down his back and kissed his cheek. "I love it when you're angry."

He gave me a look that seemed to say 'are you insane'. "Why?" he asked.

"Because your ears go red whenever you're annoyed. I think it's cute."

This time, it was his face that slowly turned rosy. His eyes lowered shyly, and then looked back at me with a gentle frailty that almost made my heart burst. "You think I'm . . . cute?"

I inwardly groaned. He was more then cute—he was beautiful. Totally perfect, flawless and pure. But I nodded and kissed his cheek again. The skin burned beneath my lips, and I knew he was blushing harder because of it. "I think you're _very_ cute. Another quality to love."

This time, when I looked at him, his eyes were sadder then ever before. "Don't look so depressed," I ordered. "There is nothing wrong with me loving you, no matter what you say."

"But I can't love you, Bella." He sighed. "If I actually promised you more then what I'd be able to give you, and then had to go away after filling your heart with false promises, I'd never be able to live with myself. It's a doomed love. It's better if we try to move on."

I scowled. "I can't believe this! An _angel_ is telling me not to love. What type of frigging world is this?!"

Edward looked shocked. "I'm not telling you not to love; I'm telling you that _we_ can't fall in love."

"Don't you think it's a little too late for that? You can't tell someone not to fall in love when they already have, Edward." My words sounded meaningful, and as they said them I felt the truth behind what I had said. "And I won't stop trying to make you admit that you love me."

He stiffened. "Bella, I never said I didn't. I just said I couldn't."

"So you do, then?" I pressed.

He shifted around, uncomfortable. "I . . . I'm pretty sure I do. But I've never felt this way before, so I don't know whether it's the real thing or not."

Satisfied, I stood a little straighter. "You'll know eventually. It will come to you soon."

"You seem kinda confident of that, don't you?" he asked flatly. "More then likely I'll remain confused."

I shrugged. "That may be, but I'm willing to take a chance."

He groaned. "You're incorrigible."

"And you're depressing. Lighten up, why don't you?"

Edward looked as if he was trying very hard not to roll his eyes. "I'm not depressing; I'm just somewhat realistic."

"Well, try to work on that. It's very dramatic and masochistic, and the last thing I need is an angel addicted to inner pain." I turned around to leave the room.

"I am not," he mumbled.

"No emo angels in this household, mister!" I gave him a strict look before marching away. I wasn't sure where the confidence came from, or the unexpected burst of optimism for that matter, but I was getting really tired of the 'we can't fall for each other' card he was playing. I wanted to do something anyway, and dogged determination was going to be the key.

There was a sudden poof behind me. I whirled, and saw Edward standing and coughing, the hallway in a thick purple cloud, and his wings fully extended. "I forced them to come," he explained weakly. "It stings a little, but I'm okay."

"Do you think that they'll stay out like that, or do you want to risk putting them back in?" I eyed his wings anxiously.

He looked at them too, and winced. "I don't know. Maybe I should stay home again and rest them a bit—they've been through a lot of compression lately."

"Alright; sleep on my bed if it gets too uncomfortable."

"I _always_ sleep on your bed."

"_What?!"_ I shrieked. Edward winced again, and put a hand up to his ear. His wings moved slightly in front of him, protecting their master from any violence that might occur. But seriously; I was freaked out by this bit of news. Hell, _any_ girl would be.

"Uh . . . yeah. I explained that it causes some pain to be separated, right? I even told you right of the bat," he pointed out, backing up a little when he noticed the ferocious look on my face. If you can visualize a cat cornering a mouse, that was pretty much what we were acting out.

"Let me get this straight," I said, my anger growing with every step forward I took (and every step _back_ he took), "You've been sleeping with me since day one?"

His back hit the closet door, and he grimaced. Nowhere to go, you naughty angel. He muttered something about an over reaction and fearing for his life. He closed his eyes tight, as if bracing himself to be hit. I was close enough that if I wanted to, I could reach out a hand and slap him; if it wasn't for those darn wings slowly cocooning him, I might have.

"Well? Talk," I ordered. "Talk or I'll. . . ." I stopped talking, searching my head for any creative medieval forms of torture.

He opened one eye curiously. After seeing that I was out of ideas of things to do to him, he relaxed. He even had the nerve to smile. "Or you'll what, exactly?" His eyes smoldered.

My breath hitched in my chest. Damn him and his tricks. I needed to speak up, but he had me feeling as if I was slowly melting into a pile of ooze. It was only the amused smile on his face that snapped me out of it. I stood straighter, and started up again. "Or I'll ask Mike out."

Edward gaped at me, clearly taken off guard. "What?"

"You heard me."

His face blackened. "Alright, I'll tell you. But just know that threatening with _that _is extremely unfair."

I shrugged. "Boo hoo. Now spill it."

"Yeah, I've been sleeping with you. But _I_ don't do anything other then sleep." He put his hand up to give me a truthful swear-on-the-bible gesture.

"Good. Taking advantage of a lady is evil." I crossed my arms. "And what do you mean by '_I_ don't do anything'? You make it sound as if _I_ do something."

He looked anywhere but me.

"Are . . . are you serious?"

"It isn't so bad."

"My sexual prowess or what I do in my sleep?"

He blushed a fiery red. "I wouldn't know about the first one, but I was referring to the sleep talking."

I felt like slumping onto the floor, I was so embarrassed. Instead, I groaned loudly. "What do I say?"

"You say that you miss your mother. You also say that you don't like it in Forks." He made a face and then changed his voice so that it was higher pitched. "'_It's too green and wet here._'"

"Well, that isn't so bad." I cheered a little. I thought it would be embarrassing.

"And once, it was last night I believe, you said you loved me."

At first, I was ready to have a heart attack. But then I realized that this was actually a good thing. He'd believe me more easily about me loving him if I was telling him in my subconscious too.

"All of that's true." I gave him a pointed look, and he knew exactly which one I was talking about the most.

His eyes shimmered. "Let's go to school." He gave me the crooked smile I loved so much and walked away, presumably to my room so he could get changed. I may have imagined it, but the air around him seemed lighter.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I'm never letting you drive again," Edward grumbled.

We were sitting in the main office, waiting for some wannabe gangsters to fill out their late forms so we could get ours. But the kids were certainly taking their own sweet time about it. Maybe it was the flickering overhead light that annoyed him so much, the way we had to shove his wings back into his back, or perhaps it really _had_ been my reckless driving. Either way, I was still a little stung that he was blaming being late on me.

"At least I got here without killing us."

"Oh, what an accomplishment."

I frowned and narrowed my eyes. "I don't like your sarcasm."

He gave me a one shoulder shrug. "I don't want to be mean, but to be honest, you _almost_ killed us. You missed the cargo truck by inches, and if it hadn't been for the car that careened into it because you screwed up the traffic flow, we'd be pancakes."

"But I _didn't _kill us. That's a good thing."

"It doesn't matter. I'm driving next time."

"You?" I repeated blankly. "You don't even have your license!"

"And yet the cruel irony of the matter is that I can still drive better then you." He smirked. I hit his leg and he laughed at me.

We filled out our late passes soon afterward, and headed to class. Our excuse was traffic trouble. Although we chose to omit the fact that we were the cause of the near accident that made us late. The teacher was alright with the notes and let us slip into our seats without further questioning. It was luckily a movie day, so we didn't miss much besides the opening music of _August Rush_.

I tried to settle into the movie's story line, but found myself distracted by a weird feeling on my back. A prickly fuzzy sensation—the type that almost makes you freeze. The type that you know someone is watching you.

Slowly, I eyed everyone on my right. There was one girl trying to hide her cell phone behind a text book as she sent a text message, a boy called Aaron whispering something to a shy girl called Angela, and a student chewing gum. Nothing suspicious there. I had a feeling who might be staring at me, but I didn't want it to be him.

I snuck a peek at my left. I saw Edward first, watching the movie with a zoned out expression. He was thinking of something other then orphans trying to find their parents through music; just as I'm sure everyone who was actually ignoring the movie was doing. He didn't notice me looking at him, because he didn't look back at me. The guy in front of him was discreetly picking his nose, but didn't appear to notice me either. Thank god. There was a honey haired girl passing notes with her voluptuous friend, occasionally peering at Edward's back. He was obviously the topic of discussion. A twinge of jealousy sparked inside me, but at least I knew that it wasn't them who were staring at me.

A slow feeling of dread welled up. Please, please, _please_ no. . . . I spun around in my seat and scanned behind me. My eyes immediately locked with Eric's sickly irises. Ugh; my suspicion had been correct. What a loser. My stomach tightened uncomfortably. Mike and his gang would NOT go after me today; I had Edward with me, and if I had Edward, I was safe.

Still, I couldn't calm myself completely. I tore off a piece of lined paper from my notebook and wrote a note to Edward.

_**Edward – do you think it'll be safe today? Eric's staring at me, and I'm kind of worried. **_

I had to rap a pencil across his desk a few times for him to look my way. When he finally lifted his eyebrow and mouthed the word, _what? _I glanced at the teacher to make sure he wasn't watching over the scene. He was reading a newspaper. I handed the note to Edward and watched his face as he read. He looked behind us and must have seen Eric, because his mouth tightened. His response was very fast, a sign that he was pissed.

**Bella – you're going to be fine. I'll be here for you this time. If he so much as talks rudely to you, I'll—**

The note ended with some very un-angelic words. I mentioned this to him in the next note, and he snorted. He flicked the note at my desk when he was done writing.

**I've been noticing a change in my behavioral patterns since visiting Earth. I guess I'm adapting. **

_**Yeah, you're turning into a real grump. :O I understand the wings and the difficulty using magic now, but what's with the stick in your butt? Lol **_XD

I sniggered, and handed it to him. A small smile stretched on his face as he tossed it back.

**Dunno how THAT got there. O.O But I promise to be in a better mood from now on :) **

The bell rang before I could write anything else. Edward stood up and waited for me to collect my binder and pocket book without tripping over my boots. We made it out of the classroom with no mortifying incident occurring.

As we walked down the noisy high school halls, I noticed that the sea of scholars parted as we passed through. They seemed determined not to have their auras tough the town's mavericks'. A few stopped to laugh at Edward's clothes—a purple and black Birthday Massacre tee with tight black jeans—and one of them even called him a "devil-loving motherfucker."

I got angry and whirled around on them before they could blink. "Listen; talk that way about him again, and I'll seriously beat you into bloody pulps. Goths are usually Catholic, anyway. So fuck off and get a life."

His friends oooed at him. The gangster idiot shrugged and made a disparaging sound. "Whatever, vampire."

"Yeah, that's what I thought, you bastard. Now go cry to mommy like I know you want to before the 'vampire' gets pissed and drains you dry." I flipped him off and blew him a kiss before turning away.

Edward was gawking at me. "What . . . what was _that_?" he asked as we neared the gym. My heart was beating fast from the thrill of the fight, and I still had left over adrenaline.

"No one should talk like that to you," I explained angrily. "It's alright if they call _me_ that, but as for _you_, they better keep their frigging traps shut."

"Well . . . thanks." He blushed a dull pink, and stopped outside the girls locker room. "I'd follow you so you wouldn't get hurt, but. . . ."

I grinned. "I get it. You don't want to see me naked, that's why." When he made garbled choking noises, I laughed. His face was the color of a tomato. "Kidding! See you next period, Edward." I gave him a hug, and was tempted to not let go. I could feel his heart racing in his chest. Was he just as attracted to me as I was to him? To put this to a test, I looked up into his eyes. Those forest green orbs would tell me anything I wanted.

"I love you, Edward."

Fireworks seemed to go off inside him, because his irises got sparkly again. I was starting to notice that if he was happy, his eyes sparkled like water in the light. It was beautiful.

"Um, I. . . ."

I tensed. Was he going to say it?! Victory was in my grasp, I could feel it in my bones.

And of course, the bell rang at that exact moment. We jumped at the shrill ringing that filled the now empty hallways. He said a hasty goodbye and sprinted down the corridor to his French class. I scurried into the locker room and strode over to my little blue gym compartment.

I stopped turning the combination and sniffed the air. I smelt the disgusting locker fumes around me. Blech; someone must be stashing a wheel of rotting gorgonzola in one of them. But that was the normal gym smell. There was something different about this scent. I just couldn't place my finger on it. It smelt like. . . . A corpse. The lights flickered over head as I thought that.

I shivered and continued the locker number. No more horror movies, that was for sure. Not with my over reactive imagination. I'd have to warn Edward not to let me watch the Ring no matter how hard I begged.

The lights burned out, sending the room into almost total darkness just as I opened my locker. Something fell out of it and onto my shoes.

Immediately taken off guard, I stumbled back onto the wooden bench behind me. I'll admit, it freaked me out. I was in an almost pitch black room, with something that smelt as if it had died. I noticed something dark on my shoes; it looked horribly familiar. A felt a scream building up in my throat. Oh my God. . . . I looked back down at the thing that had fell out onto me. It had felt soft and wet. And hairy.

The lights flashed on again, but I wished they hadn't come back a split second later. I let out a shriek that reverberated off the walls.

There was a dead cat on the floor, maggots swarming in and out of the flesh, the blood still wet and a vibrant red.

"EDWARDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"


	13. Souls

**French Class**

**(EPOV)**

"Je vousdrais un coca, s'il vous plait," I recited from my seat in the back of the classroom, my voice lost in the chorus of monotonous adolescent voices. The teacher nodded appreciatively at me—because I was the only one with an accent that didn't resemble Spanish—and twirled a piece of snowy white chalk between her fingers.

"Now; say something funny in French," she ordered. There was a loud rise in the displeasure of the students, which was quickly squelched down by the stern gaze of Madame Constance. "Let's try that again," she suggested, her voice as cold as an iced over road.

After several failed attempts to engage the children's attention in a new language, she retreated to her desk, muttering about the lost art of bilingual abilities in the American culture.

My eyes traveled to the third seat in front of me, and they immediately narrowed. Mike Newton's back was turned, his hands drumming against his desk. It would have seemed innocent enough, but I wasn't going to let my guard down. That bastard had nearly murdered Bella, and I was certain that he'd it again.

An alarm went off in my head. Hate is never the answer to anything. Hating Mike Newton wouldn't solve any problems at all. My knuckles were stark white as I tightened my grip around the sides of my desk. Alright, I decided finally. I didn't hate _Mike_. I just wanted to throttle the Morte angel possessing him.

Perhaps, I mused, Mike wasn't the real problem. He might have been alright when he hadn't been possessed, so what he was doing now wasn't really his actions. He was only a vessel in which the Morte was carrying out his master's will. Goodness; there could be a whole group of innocent people that demons were taking advantage of!

I stopped glaring a hole into his back and gave him a thoughtful look. _Who's controlling you? _

He stiffened.

For about a full second, I thought he had gained my power to read minds; I instinctively froze up as well, like a spooked rabbit sensing for danger. But it was false alarm. He just nearly swallowed his gum down the wrong pipe, as he brought into light when he spat the gum into his hand. He studied it a little and then promptly stuck it under his desk.

My toes curled. Ew; disgusting.

There was a knock on the classroom door, but I didn't look at it to see who it was. It didn't matter anyway. All that I should be focusing now was attempting to read Mike's mind and see if he had anything else he was plotting, like I invariably knew he was. But alas, no such luck. I'd have similar luck trying to mind read a block of concrete. Perhaps it was my overusing of magical abilities that made me forfeit my telepathy. Guiltily, I averted my eyes over to the blurry window. Somehow my powers had been transferred into my clothes. I was sure that everything I had purchased at Bella's stores had originally been white. Not that I really cared—I was comfortable being more like her. But still . . . the fact that I had switched its colors without meaning to was disconcerting.

"Class!" Madame Constance barked. The students quieted down a little. I was still zoning out of the window, but I was vaguely listening. "We have a new student."

"Wow, two new students in a range of two weeks," a girl with a Jamaican accent whispered to her partner. "How exciting. Wonder where he's from? He looks kind of foreign. But in a hot way, too."

"I don't know," her friend whispered back. "I think the other one is hotter."

"That's because you have bad taste. This one has more muscles and a tan. The Goth guy is pretty puny."

Puny? I tried not to take too much offense, but my testosterone kicked in. What self respecting guy wants to be called _puny? _

"He's just thin," the other one protested.

Damn right. I smiled.

"He's just weird," Miss Jamaica said with distaste.

I scowled and laid back on the chair. These girls were starting to annoy me. I focused on the rainy window harder, hoping to drown them out of my hearing range.

"Tell the class your name," the French teacher suggested to the student. My ears pricked up despite myself. I was curious.

"Jake," a familiar voice responded.

_No way. _It hit me with the force of a lightning bolt. I whipped around to the front of the room and scrutinized the new kid in horror. My throat felt as if someone was pressing a hand to it. _It was him. _

A Native American teenager stood tall and proud next to Madame Constance. He was so tall that the kids in the front row had to lean back to see his face. He had long hair, to just before his shoulders, and a broad chest. His muscles were clearly defined against the green sweater he was wearing; it went with his russet skin nicely, according to the girls giggling next to my desk. He had a wide, white smile as he surveyed the classroom. His eyes rested on me.

How in the name of Heaven had Jacob Black ended up at this school?

"There's an empty desk next to Edward," the teacher said, smiling back at him. She was clearly wooed.

"Thank you," he said softly. He didn't remove his scorching dark eyes away from mine. Electricity sparked between us, and the rest of the world disappeared. Except this was a different electricity then the one I felt with Bella. This one was a vicious, territorial tension, just waiting to break. But who was going to snap it first? Me or the guidance angel?

"But wait; before you sit, would you like to tell the class a little about yourself?" she continued. "What school did you go to before coming to Forks?"

Jacob's smile broadened. I alone caught the smirk; the rest of the class didn't realize it. He continued looking at me. "Angel Academy," he answered.

I inwardly groaned. What a freaking idiot.

"That's a weird name for a school," a guy commented.

Jacob's eyes shot over to the incriminating speaker. "No, it isn't. I'm not the only one who went there." He focused on me again. "Edward went there, too."

"Oh," Madame Constance stuttered. She looked between the two of us and must have sensed the discomfort. "Were you two friends?"

He paused. "You could say that."

Right. Sure. I stopped myself from jumping up and telling him exactly what he could do with his _friendship_.

The teacher smiled. "That's great! Go on and sit down then." She gave him a gentle push, which I assumed was an alibi to touch his well toned shoulders.

Jacob's Converses tapped lightly against the linoleum, and my heart rate quickened with my anger. Why did it have to be _him_ of all people? And why is it that everyone could see him? AS he brushed past Mike, he stopped and smiled. Mike smiled slowly at him, too. This was not good. He moved on after a second of silent talking with the possessed human. I felt the fury twist my gut, probably mimicking my expression, as he sat down in the desk to my left.

I thought I had seen the last of him in purgatory. We hadn't been the closest of people at all, really; as if that wasn't pretty much obvious in my behavior. He had been a fellow student at the Academy indeed. He hadn't lied about that. Everyone in purgatory is sent to a sort of school to learn how to control their powers and complete their mission on Earth. We referred to this place as the Angel Academy. Love potions, flight class, death observation . . . we had classes of that sort, as Ra and I had mentioned to Bella before. I ran into Jacob more often than I wanted to—since I was a healing angel, I didn't normally associate with guidance angels or Death Bringers in general.

Jacob had been a . . . rival, you could call it, at the Academy. We were two of the brightest students, always competing for the top. We never got along, but we lived with each other; I'd hang out with Ra, he'd hang out with his friends. There had been an unspoken agreement between us not to contact the other.

That's why I was so startled at his appearance in Forks. What were the chances of being in the same state, on the same continent, in the same town and even the same CLASSROOM, as my old rival? It seemed suspiciously set up.

I scrawled a note and ripped a piece of paper from out of my note book. I couldn't believe I was resorting to this. I clenched my teeth together furiously.

_**Jacob- what are you doing here? **_

Personally, I wasn't very satisfied with that note. I wanted to jump up from my seat and shake him by the shoulders while shouting that at him. But I settled on a less noticeable way to get my annoyance across. I threw it at his desk, and he snatched it from the air with a bored expression. After reading the note, Jacob's hand started to get a red haze around it.

I felt my jaw drop. He was using magic in a classroom? What a brazen display of power! Had he not learned anything in over a century of classes? But then, I had always known he was a bird brain. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling of uncomfortableness. What if a mortal saw him? I checked to see if the coast was clear. No one was paying attention.

The paper, folded neatly in half, fluttered onto my desk. I glanced over at Jacob, who watched me with that annoyingly smug little smile, tapping his new shiny black pen against the desk top. Red glitter sparkled slightly over it.

**Edward- I'm doing my job, stupid. :p Last time I checked, that was the whole purpose of my being here, wasn't it?**

My mouth tightened into a line as I read his reply. Jerk. I wrote another one to him, more then slightly insulted.

_**As charming as ever, I see. I'm simply surprised that I'm seeing you again. Last time we ran into each other was when I whooped your sorry butt at Flight Instruction. **_I smiled and handed him the paper. I enjoyed watching the smirk on his face wipe off as he read. That's one point for me. I leaned back and relaxed, waiting patiently for what his comeback would be. I didn't have to wait long before he had written another note and thrust the lined paper at my desk.

**I want a rematch; just like old times, except I want it on Earth. I rather like the weather here. **

I regarded him with raised eyebrows and gave a pointed glance at the window as a strong bolt of lightning cracked the air and the wind pounded against the glass. He shrugged.

_**Fine. We'll have a rematch; but only until you give me a little info. Why are you here? **_

He paused before writing his answer. Jacob seemed a little unhappy to be telling me the details, which I supposed was understandable considering the fact that we were borderline of jumping for the other's neck.

**My human is in this school. That's it. So, when are we going to do this? I want it to be an okay day, preferably sunny. Not that it really matters; I feel . . . at home in this place. **

I resisted the urge to rip the note in half. He was hedging around giving me any real information. But so be it; I couldn't force him to do anything. I'd just wait around until he slipped up and let something reveal itself.

_**The woods. Do you know of a place here that's deserted? **_

**There is a meadow miles outside the La Push Indian Reservation. No one knows about it—and if anyone WAS there, I'd just wipe their memories anyway. **

I cringed; yes, Jacob could wipe memories. I had once been able to read minds, and Jacob was able to wipe thoughts and memories by will if he wanted to. A useful, if not pesky, power to have. I was shocked to know that he could still do it now that he was tangible to the eyes of the humans—I had been hoping that perhaps he had been rewarded the same curse I had been blessed with.

The overhead lights flickered suddenly, making a creepy strobe light effect. The class quieted down a little and sat still in their seats, faces turned either upwards to the faulty electricity, or outside, to the whipping lightning across the black clouds. The class's murmurs died down to silence.

Then abruptly, the silence was disturbed by a soft, throaty chuckle from Jacob. I saw a few people's eyes dart towards him in alarm. I just raised an eyebrow and wondered what the heck was so funny about flickering lights.

Mike joined in, too, which surprised me. I regarded his smile—so perfectly matching Jacob's—with mistrust. Something was up. Something really, really bad. I can't tell you for certain why I knew that, it was just something that was instinct. Maybe it was just the frightening way they laughed, or the red glint returning in Mike's irises.

A sudden chill washed over me. There couldn't be any possibility that Jacob's human was _Mike_?

Jacob and Mike shared a private smirk between themselves, as if knowing what the other was thinking. It made the fine hair at the back of my neck stand on end.

Yes. Yes, Jacob's human could very well be Mike.

The lights flickered again, and died.

**-----------------(BPOV)--------------**

As I stared into the lifeless eyes of the feline corpse, I tried my best to stay positive about the situation. Alright, so I was facing a dead animal that had fallen out of my locker. There were worse things that could have happened. I just couldn't think of any at the moment.

I took a few deep breaths and backed away from the body. Maggots crawled out of the flesh and onto the floor, away from me. They slid under the lockers. I shuddered in disgust, imagining what the girls would do when they found out their clothes had maggots on them.

"Cute, aren't they?" a cold voice asked behind me.

I nearly jumped out of my skin. I whirled around, my loose hair swirling, and saw Lauren leaning against the side of one of the lockers. She locked eyes with me, all life drained from them. She twirled a loch of long, honey-gold hair around one neatly manicured finger as she stared at me.

"You did this?" I managed to choke out.

Her perfect pink lips turned up at the edges, and her eyes squinted a little. "Yes. I managed to keep some of the blood in there using the magic of Tupperware, and I was able to breed the larvae and place them inside the container. Lovely, isn't it?" She gestured to the rotting animal on the floor. "I call her 'Maggot'. Fitting, don't you think?"

I gulped, my blood starting to boil. What monstrous bitch would do this to someone? To an animal or any other living thing? "Why?"

She laughed, a deceptively angelic sound. "'Cause I can. And because I really hate you."

"Bitchy little demon," I grumbled.

"Hun, let's be honest," Lauren said lightly. "I was always a bitch, even before I became a demon."

I snorted. "I can believe that."

She stepped forward slightly, and I froze up, ready to detect any sudden movements and dodge any attacks. Despite her bubblegum appearance, she was extremely dangerous. I braced myself, feet spread apart, ready and waiting.

"Bella . . . do you know why I became this way in the first place?" she whispered. Her eyes shone to a dark, burgundy red. She took a step forward, more deliberate this time.

Wanting to have some distance, I stepped back and hit the cool metal of the locker doors. "No," I answered. I could hear the timorous tremor of my voice. Lauren smiled maliciously. She had heard my terror, too.

"Beauty. Never aging. Just by giving up one thing, one tiny, insignificant thing, I was able to obtain two of the greatest dreams of mankind. All that I had to exchange for it was my soul. But what's one soul when you can have this," she touched herself softly on the cheek, "forever?"

"Everything!" Suddenly, I had snapped into focus. _This_ is why I had been tortured since my arrival in this miserable town of Forks? All because some petty, conceited girl sold her soul to the devil for eternal youth? That was bull. "Lauren, how could you do that?"

She shrugged one shoulder. "It was easy. I made a pact in my blood, and signed it. No biggie."

" 'No biggie'? You don't have a _soul_! All you are is just an empty shell." I clenched my fists angrily. "And yet you gave everything—a chance to fall in love, grow old with your husband and have children and grandchildren—just so you could look seventeen forever?"

She looked a little annoyed. "Yes, I did. I told you, I wanted it more then anything—"

"You are such a frigging idiot that it isn't even funny."

Lauren halted, only three feet away from me. She gnashed her pearly white teeth, infuriated. "There's a reason I didn't like you, Bella. I never talked to you for the first two weeks you came here, right?"

"Best two weeks of my stay here," I muttered. "Yeah, I remember. So what? Are you trying to pass that off as my fault?"

"No." She frowned. "I didn't like you because I was jealous."

That comment just floored me. She, the one who had gone with teasing me so easily, had been jealous of me? It was like out of some really over-used idea for a daytime drama directed towards women. They say that jealousy made people do stupid things, but _selling your soul_?

"Jealous? Why? I was the freak, as you so kindly pointed out to me every chance you could." I eyed her warily.

"Yes. I was jealous as hell, actually," Lauren admitted with great reluctance. "You don't know this, Bella, but you're actually quite pretty. If you didn't wear that much black, people would recognize that." She stopped for a second, considering something. "Not that it will really matter, anyway. You won't come out of this room alive."

Suddenly, the temperature seemed to drop about sixty degrees. The lights—curse their cliché-ness—went on and off again. She smiled a little and stepped closer.

**(A/N MWAHAHAHA! I positively adore Cliffies. :) They draw the readers (and my personal favorite, the reviewers) out of the woodwork and into plain view. Even if my reviewers are a bit cranky that they have to wait a little until the next chapter. XD**

**Again, sorry for my slow writing. I'm trying to speed up writing for this story, since I have so many other ideas for different fanfics, but I'm finding that impossible. I want to reach at least a thousand reviews before I stop. ;) So basically, it's all up to you to make my dream (of getting a goal of a thousand reviews) come true. No pressure. –sharpens knife that looks as if it popped out of a slasher movie-**

**Disney was okay. I survived, although I got more stares then the guys running around in the cartoon character outfits. Go figure. **

**Oh, go add the story's myspace to your pages. Please and thank you, young angels and demons. **

**-- Much love, RavenMadisonfan (Dani) **


	14. Exorcism

**(A/N Hello, my angels and demons. I've come back, and contrary to popular belief, I'm not dead. I have been working on many projects all at once, that's all. Over a hundred math pages and an art project that depicts the word 'vampire' on it. All in all, a stressful thing to through when you like to lounge around all day like me. :)**

**I'm going to give you all a little Heaven Help Me trivia. I like to daydream. I daydream best when I'm listening to music and exercising. I run, dance, swing and jump on a trampoline. Well, one time during the summer of 2007, I was listening to a CD a friend had unknowingly left at my house and bouncing on the trampoline. The band's name was Thrice, in case you're interested. During one of the tracks, I happened to look out at the sunset, and I immediately got the image of a falling boy from the sky. I dismissed the image and pushed it aside. But it was always lurking. **

**At the time, I was a huge Harry Potter and Inuyasha fan. (Still am, in fact.) I only came across Twilight when I had read New Moon first. So it took me a while to want to put my idea of a cute angel falling into someone's pickup truck and the Twilight characters together. **

**Originally, I wanted the story to be called 1 800 Heaven, but it wouldn't let me put numbers in the title for some reason. :/ So Heaven Help Me was christened only as a second choice. **

**The irony of this thing is that the person making a story about angels and demons and the love of God **_**isn't **_**a Christian. Wow. Wasn't expecting that one, were you? **

**All questions shall be answered later on in the story. Don't message me and ask to get previews, or ask me about things I can't reveal yet. For this chapter ONLY, I will be answering all questions reviewers ask. This will end at 6:30 P.M. on the 23****rd**** of February, 2008. No exceptions.)**

My eyes grew taut as Lauren drew nearer to me. I tried to look unafraid and sure of myself; I placed my feet apart, bracing my body for any blows that it may take. I sincerely hoped that she couldn't hear my heart attempting to jump out of my chest, because that would give away my façade, and would probably cause me to end up as a smear on the wall.

"Whoa . . . you don't need to kill me," I suggested. "Not all people without souls are bad, right?" I inwardly cringed at the oxymoron. Could someone without a soul feel sympathy? I backed away, sliding past lockers to the next row. Lauren's red eyes never left me.

She smiled, and for the first time I noticed that she had amazingly sharp teeth. Like a wolf. "I'd say sorry, but I'm not. Orders are orders."

I almost halted. Almost, but the hungry gleam in her glowing irises made me speed up a little. "Who's ordering you to do this?"

I had an idea. If I could keep her talking and get to the door before she actually did anything, I'd be safe. But what could I say to hold her interest? I'd talk about her, since she had to be as conceited as normal. I turned a corner slowly, losing sight of Lauren. I could hear her feet where I left her, so I knew she was following. _Scuff-scuff, scuff-scuff—_her shoes made a scratchy sound when she dragged her feet along the linoleum. _Scuff-scuff, scuff-scuff_.

"I follow the Prince of Darkness, mortal. You don't know what you're dealing with." Her voice was a deep hiss. It scared the living hell out of me, because it seemed to be someone else's; a man's, actually.

"Satan, huh? Doesn't he have a little compassion? What does he want with _me _anyhow?" I demanded. The door was about two or three locker rows away. I kept going backwards, and listened for Lauren.

_Scuff-scuff. _"I wouldn't know. Servants and masters do not generally discuss any underlying reasoning behind the master's wishes, unless the master wishes to discuss it."

I marveled at her much improved vocabulary. When demons had better English skills then humans, that's when you know it's time to stop listening to the TV and read more. "Well, that sucks. What, he doesn't trust you enough to tell you what you're doing this for? I'd totally confide in you if you were working for me."

_Scuff-scuff, scuff-scuff. _"Really." Her voice sounded almost bored, skeptical. She didn't believe me, but then again I _was_ lying.

I gulped. She was getting too uninterested in where this subject was heading. If I lost her now, I'd end up like Maggot the cat. I quietly backed up some more, heading towards the one exit. "Yeah, really. So, did everyone else sell their soul to him, or what?" Step, step.

_Scuff-scuff. _"No. I was the only one smart enough to think of the benefits. The rest of them are too cowardly. Master had them possessed by the finest Morte angels out there," she whispered proudly. _Scuff-scuff. _

Alright, I could see the door now. If I made a run for it, I might make it. Adrenaline pulsated in my veins, and I cleared my throat nervously. As soon as I got her talking, I'd escape. "So they don't have a say in it? It isn't actually _them_ who hate me, it's the demons?"

_SCUFF-__**SCUFF**_

I strangled a scream that threatened to burst out. She was in the next row, right next to me. I had thought that I had been moving away from her, but all this time while I had been talking, she had been using my voice as a beacon. A signal of fresh meat.

"They are _angels_, Bella. They don't have a say in what profession they were cursed with. They can't help it if they are what they are. They aren't demons. They are _victims of circumstance_." _**SCUFF**_

I moved hastily and silently in the other direction, scrambling to the next locker isle. The darkness crept over me, and I only had the sound of the rain and thunder for sounds to fill the echoing, hungry silence. There was a mirror behind me, unused for a while, judging by the amount of dust caked upon it. But apart from that, I had nothing but the tiled wall, another row of lockers, and myself.

Geez, talk about being in between a rock and a hard place.

My knees were shaking, I realized. I backed up to shrink into the shadows. Perhaps my black clothes wouldn't be a target mark for my torturers like they usually were.

_Scuff-scuff. _"Bellaaaah . . . come out, come out, where ever you are. . . ." She laughed, high and shrill and terrifying. I closed my eyes tightly. "Bellaaaah, I just want to play. . . ."

Right. She just wanted to play a game that could kill me. No way was I buying into that.

My backside brushed against the cold metal of the lockers. Something was in my back pocket. What had I put in there? I was sure that nothing was in there this morning.

"_Bellaaaah . . . _where are you, you little cockroach?"_ Scuff-scuff. _

Tears started to form. She was in the row behind me, and coming closer and closer to my hiding place. God, was I going to die? Was I going to die in this filthy locker room? Still, I did feel a prickle of anger when she had called me a cockroach.

The thing in my back pocket had a point at the end. I found that out by nearly spearing myself in the rear with the mysterious object. Instead of gasping, like I had wanted to, I smiled. Suddenly, I was excited. After all, even soulless monsters couldn't survive getting stabbed, could they?

I dug into the pocket and clasped the thin yet hard object in my fingers. It had a pointed end, and it felt strangely like the letter 't'. There was a beaded chain from a small hole in the metal work.

_**SCUFF-SCUFF.**_ "Bella. I know where you are. Don't bother hiding," Lauren warned. Her voice was harsh again, more masculine.

I whipped out the object—or rather, new weapon—and got ready to pounce. She was right next to the bend and would be appearing at any second. A single bead of sweat slid down the side of my cheek, and I focused all my strength towards my hand. I even tried to remember what slasher movies had the best technique in the art of self defense. All I came up with was the movie Halloween. And that chick had a broken clothes hanger to take his eye out, not some weird pointed thing she found randomly in her pocket.

"_Found you_." Lauren's head appeared suddenly around the bend. Her face was contorted and dead looking, with the predatory smile stretched upwards like a clown. But this was her _real_ mouth. And those red, cat-like eyes glaring down at me were her _real_ eyes.

I sprang up and plunged the weapon into her rib cage without a second thought. It was an impulse, really. Her eyes widened and bulged out. She staggered back, grasping at her chest wildly. Blood was pouring out, onto her hands and pooling onto the floor. It seemed almost black in the darkness.

Stabbing someone isn't like in the movies, I realized. You really have to work at it, put some force behind the blade or the stake that you're using. People don't just fall over, split in half, if you swing an axe at them. They just get hacked little by little, like a tree.

Well, I had put all my strength into that stab. And I guess it really showed, because Lauren was choking on her own blood now. She was on her knees, doubled over, puking out streams of dark red liquid.

I was just shocked. Not as shocked as Lauren was, but shocked enough. My hand was curled around the object I had used tightly, not willing to let go. My adrenaline had made my grip quite strong. My eyes darted down to my makeshift weapon.

I was holding a cross, the silver doused in blood. Even the feet of the figure of Jesus had blood from the toes to the knees. Someplace in my mind, the part that wasn't totally consumed with the scene of Lauren sobbing and clutching her fatal wounds, I wondered if killing someone with a holy figure would be sacrilegious. I'd have to ask Edward when I got out of this mess.

But how had I gotten a cross in my pocket? I didn't own this thing; it was too fancy, too intricate in metal design. It looked like something out of a museum. I observed it curiously as I headed towards the door.

I put my hand to the handle and looked over my shoulder, making sure that Lauren was still moaning on the linoleum about the injustice of it all, about dying to the hands of a lowly, plain cockroach. Any sympathy I may have had for her vanished. The bitch deserved what she got. I turned the handle to get out.

It was locked.

A chill swept over me. I was certain that the door had not been locked when I had gotten in here. And it could only be locked from the outside. This was bad, I realized. _Very_ bad.

My suspicions were confirmed when Lauren started howling with laughter. Seriously—the girl was dying of blood loss after being stabbed, and she was _laughing_. Uneasy, I walked back to where I had left her.

Lauren was standing up, blond hair in perfect alignment, almost completely healed. The blood that she had been dripping onto the floor was nearly gone. The only indication that she was injured was the big, angry burn mark on her chest where I had speared her. She smiled widely, the creepy laughter coming from her increasing in height.

This was definitely an 'oh, shit' moment.

She chuckled darkly. "Did you honestly think," she cracked her neck loudly, "that you could kill me?" Her eyes glowed. She was angry.

I frowned, holding the cross close to me. "It was worth a shot."

"No, it wasn't," she snarled. The wind in the room picked up a little. Her hair was blowing, and I could hear the locker doors rattling.

"Stop throwing a tantrum," I said venomously. I had decided that anger was the key element here. A fight to the death was inevitable, but there was no way that I was going to show fear before I bit the dust.

"_Stop throwing a tantrum!"_ she mimicked. She snorted loudly, then spat the phlegm off to the side.

"Ew," I commented. I wrinkled my nose. "That's disgusting."

"Yes. A perfect likeness of you."

I gawked at her. "Did you just call me _snot_?"

"Yes. Yes, I did."

I shook my head in disbelief. "Then you don't deserve the honor of killing me. I'd like to at least have a more civilized murderer."

She shrugged. I noticed the burn mark still scalded into her skin; it had gotten through her clothes. "Beggars can't be choosers."

"I'm not begging you to kill me, now am I?" I pointed out hopelessly.

She considered. "True. But too bad. It isn't going to change anything." She advanced a few steps.

I ran. I'll admit it, I ran. It was childish and stupid, and I had no clue where I was going to go off to if I ran away from her, but I took off like a startled fox from a hound. I heard her laughing. "Let the games begin."

Crap. I was back at the wall with the mirror. I was trapped. I waited grimly in the cold, dark silence, waiting to hear her shoes scuffle again. My back was turned to the mirror.

I heard her voice echo around the room, loud and amplified. I couldn't tell where it came from at all. _"BELLA. YOU HAVEN'T SEEN ALL OF MY POWERS YET. DO YOU THINK THAT I'D ACTUALLY FALL FOR THE SAME THING TWICE?"_

My eyes darted nervously to either side of me. It was clear on both sides. I even looked up at the top of the lockers. No one was standing there, let alone one blond demon in a skirt.

I felt tingles down my spine, though. It was the usual flesh crawling feeling of someone staring at me. She was watching me, I knew it. But _where_?

Wait a second. Tingles down my _spine_? If someone was staring at you and your back felt weird, that meant that. . . .

I turned around and faced the mirror, my blood running cold.

Lauren was staring out of it, her wolfish teeth smiling, and the crimson of her eyes blazing. "_I TOLD YOU THAT YOU HAVEN'T SEEN ALL OF MY TRICKS, YET."_

The mirror was only about the size of your average bathroom mirror, so I guess the effect was kind of ruined. But it was still creepy to see her standing there, next to me, while I knew that she wasn't standing next to me at all.

Her jaw unhinged. Literally. It just unhinged, like some humanized cobra, revealing a row of jagged fangs. Lauren laughed again, reveling in my horror.

I got an idea—it was vague, I didn't know if it would work, and I could get killed if I was wrong. But I was desperate. I didn't want to die today. I wanted to see Edward. But why is it that when I called his name, he hadn't come? I watched as Lauren's hands started sliding out of the mirror, grasping towards my throat. Did he hate me that much? Was that why he wouldn't tell me he loved me?

Lauren's head came out of the now liquid-like glass. Her nostrils were flared. "_Got you."_

Hold on; Edward didn't come because I hadn't said the words that brought him to me. Hell, even though I was so close to getting murdered, I still hadn't said it once. But still, maybe he had sensed something was wrong. With a burst of intuition I realized where the cross had come from. Edward must have sent it there with what limited magic he had. He really did love me.

Fueled with that knowledge, I smacked the cross onto Lauren's forehead. There was a loud hiss as the metal burned into her skin. She shrieked, and shrank back into the mirror. "The power of the Christ compels you, bitch!" I snarled.

Lauren went back all the way into the glass world she had put herself in. She held her hands up to her face, hiding her charred flesh. She was screaming in agony; it made my ears hurt. Carefully, I took off my boot, still holding the cross on the mirror, in case she decided to jump me while I was busy. She didn't; she was too busy clawing at her face, ripping off the dead skin.

I made sure I had a good grip on the boot before slamming it against the glass with the steel bottom. A crack formed with each time I pounded into it, growing bigger, wider and longer.

Lauren's eyes widened in terror. "_Noooooooooo!" _she screamed. She reached for the glass to escape, but was immediately burned when she touched it. A feral growl ripped through her chest when she spotted the cross. "_DAMN YOU TO—"_

The mirror shattered as I hit it with a strong blow, drowning out her words. As the shards hit the white and blue linoleum, I swear that I could still hear her shrieking. Except that it was fainter now, much less close. Eventually, the screams died away and left only the quiet humming of a radiator. The heat was working again.

The lights flickered back on. I blinked, dazed by the sudden burst of brightness, and looked around.

There were papers all over the place, spilt around from when Lauren had caused a sudden cold wind. The blood that she had coughed up had vanished mysteriously—just like Maggot the cat and any sign that she had been there. All that remained was the shattered mirror at my feet.

"Heaven help me," I whispered. I slumped against the tiled wall in exhaustion, surveying the scene unfolded before me. I ran my hand through my hair to calm my nerves.

What a way for the day to end. Nearly killed by a girl who sold her soul to the devil and then trapped her in a mirror world for all eternity. Johnny Christ. I shook my head in disbelief.

The door swung open, and I whipped my head around, which got me a crick in the neck. I rubbed it quickly and gave Edward a small smile. "Ow. You got here a little late, didn't you?"

Edward's intelligent green eyes took in the messy state of the room. I wondered what he was thinking when he saw me standing in a puddle of glass with a bloody cross in one hand and a combat boot in the other.

"What's been going on here?!" He demanded. He strode over to be cautiously, a crease on his forehead.

I tried to laugh, but I'm not sure if it was convincingly nonchalant. "The usual. Lauren just tried to kill me and I stabbed her with the cross. But the door was locked, and when I tried to confront her to make sure she was really dead, she was in the mirror. So I put the cross over her 'reflection' and broke it with my shoe."

He stood there gawking at me for a full minute.

"Why didn't you call for me sooner?"

I frowned. "I did. I screamed your name when Maggot the cat popped out of my locker to say hello. But you didn't come. I guess it isn't your fault, because the key words are 'help me,' right?"

"Yes . . . those are the only words that will let me know that you are in danger. Those are the only words that will tell me exactly where you are. I'm just so sorry that I wasn't able to get here faster." His face fell.

I took advantage of the moment and grabbed his hand. It was warm and gentle. And much bigger then mine. "So . . . was French interesting?"

He stiffened. His eyes hardened into a darker green and he shook his head. The crease on his forehead grew deeper.

"Edward; you aren't _lying_ to me, are you?"

He shook his head again, but didn't say anything.

"Edward." I scowled. "I can tell when something's up. What's wrong?"

'I'm upset that I wasn't able to help you, even when you could have died," he said quietly. His gaze saddened, but there was still that crease.

"There's more," I said slowly, "more that you aren't telling me. What's wrong? Besides my demon slaying?"

He closed his eyes briefly. "There is a guidance angel here at the school. What's worse is that I think that he's Mike's angel. And when a Morte angel and a guidance angel team up, something horrible is bound to happen."

"Well, just talk to the guidance angel I'm sure he'd listen," I suggested, confused.

Edward opened his eyes again, a frustrated tinge to them now. Talk about mood swings. "I can't. The guidance angel, Jacob, and I never got along during our time in purgatory. He'd do the opposite of what I asked just because I asked him to."

"What a creep," I muttered. He raised his eyebrows. Way up. "Not you; him," I explained hastily. He relaxed a little.

Someplace in the hallway, a bell rang. I looked quickly at Edward. "Let's get out of here before we get in trouble for vandalizing school property."

"Good idea."

We ran from the locker room, hand in hand, through the hallway and to the parking lot. Some students stared at us as we ran past, others just tried to trip us. But Edward and I just laughed when we stepped on top of their outstretched feet, crushing their ankles with our heavy shoes. I'm pretty sure that a few teachers told us to stop running in the halls, but I didn't care. We ran until we reached the double exit doors, where we took a deep breath and adjusted our coats so we wouldn't get wet.

It was strange—I thought, as I hopped into my rusty red truck with my guardian angel, who was smiling so beautifully as we joked around—but even though I was almost killed today, I didn't mind so much. Even though I was being hunted down by the devil and his minions, even though I was going through a form of hell already, and even though I didn't have my mother, I was okay with it.

Because all of that just didn't matter when I was with the man I loved.

Edward caught me staring at him and gave me my favorite crooked smile. My heart raced. "What are you thinking?"

I smiled back. "That I love you."


	15. I Wish

**Heaven Help Me**

**Chapter 15: I Wish**

_**By: RavenMadisonfan **_

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"I am not eating that," I said flatly.

The kitchen lights leered over us as Edward presented a plate of what resembled burnt dog excrement to me, expecting me to enjoy chipping a tooth and messing up my digestion track. He had obviously gone insane over the course of one night. 

He wiped some of the flour off of the bridge of his nose and pouted. "Please? I had to make them without magic this time."

"You didn't have to," I muttered, poking one of the mysterious objects on the platter cautiously. I doubted if even seagulls could stomach this; and seagulls can eat most of anything. "What are they supposed to be? Cement snow balls?"

"Cookies." He glared. "Don't blame me if you don't like them; blame the box's directions."

I paused, considering this information. "You followed the directions, right?"

He nodded.

"All of them?"

Edward froze, chewing his lip uncertainly. "Not really . . ."

"Then that might be the cause of this." I gestured towards the little mountains he had baked.

"It wasn't so bad of a batch considering I never cooked anything for real!"

"But you do admit it was bad."

"Yeah, it was." He sighed, defeated, and slumped into the chair next to me. Edward had been baking since we got from school, which had been about four or three hours ago. He had made me leave the room so he could try his hand at it and surprise me. And boy, had he surprised me.

He had dumped his new book bag—which had been my old one—onto the coffee table, letting some papers from school catch the lighting. Apparently, Halloween was rapidly approaching Forks. The high school had already posted flyers for the dance. In a few days, I would be forced to attend it, watching as everyone with dates twirled around the gymnasium. Goodie.

"Can you explain to me the purpose of Halloween again?" Edward asked. He brushed aside some of his bronze hair out of his eyes.

"It has a more colorful history; something to do with waving jack-o-lanterns to keep away spirits. I'm not sure why or when we started trick-or-treating, but I'm not complaining. Free candy," I explained. "The one with the best costume at the Halloween dance tomorrow gets dubbed the King or Queen of the Ghouls. I'm pretty sure that we're the only high school that does that around here."

"There's a dance? At the high school?"

My good humor dissipated a little. "Yeah . . . there's a dance in the gym. Just another place where I can be socially ignored or tortured. But hey, maybe I can have another battle with a demon again," I joked.

Edward did not look happy when I mentioned that again. "There _better_ not be another demon there."

"And if there is?" I made a dismissing sound. "Hello, Jessica, Mike and Eric are going to be there. I guarantee it."

"Oh." His face darkened. "That means that Jacob's going to be there, too."

I frowned. "I guess. But is it even possible for a human who's possessed by a Morte angel to have a guidance angel as well? It doesn't seem so fair."

"Technically, I don't know if his human is actually Mike. I just have a feeling that it is," he said thoughtfully. "But if he _was_ his human, then all I can say is that very bad things will happen. An angel of death is no big deal when you're dealing with one who's alone, but when coupled up . . . you're dealing with a hell of trouble." 

I shrugged, and grabbed a knife out of the counter drawer. I proceeded to saw at the cement cookie.

I knew that Edward was right, of course. I had barely gotten out of that situation today with my skin intact. But I preferred not to think of it so pessimistically—I had learned from personal experience that if you looked at an event with a sad outlook, it would only lead to pain.

I gave up on trying to cut open the rock-hard dough, and threw the knife in the sink. It clattered against the aluminum loudly, along with a clinking of other dishes. I yawned and stretched out my arms over my head, letting my legs spread so that my feet were near Edward's. I tapped them lightly and smiled. He raised an eyebrow, wondering what I was doing.

"Bella," he said suddenly. "I've wanted to know what that door in the hallway was. You know, the one that doesn't have paint on it?"

"The basement?" I asked, scrunching my brows together.

"Yeah, that must be it."

"I haven't gone in there since I was a child; I used to be afraid of the monsters that lived down there," I said, catching the irony of me being afraid of the things that go bump in the night. "We could go down there, if you want. There's only a bunch of sheets and dust, last time I looked, and I'm not sure you'll really want to see any of that, but—"

"I want to see it," he interrupted.

"Okay." I gave him a confused look.

"I'm just curious," he assured me. "No underlying reasoning behind it at all. Just simple curiosity."

I slid my chair out and got up; he followed suit. "Alright, then." I smiled and walked down the hallway, knowing he would follow me. Sure enough, I could hear his footsteps against the soft fabric of the carpeting.

The basement door was nothing special, really; it was a plain wooden door that looked fairly foreboding and dangerous to little kids. I got a feeling of unease around the basement whenever I passed by, but I always ignored it. Edward's sudden urge to explore my cellar made me wonder if there was a real reason behind my edginess around that area of the house. Was it a portal to an underworld dimension, or what? When I asked him, he just rolled his eyes.

"Not everything I do involves trying to root out the supernatural, Bella. You watch too much TV."

I put a hand to the knob and paused. "Oh? And this is coming from my guardian angel that fell from purgatory into my truck?"

"Alright, I'll give you that much." He sighed, lightly pushing me out of the way. "Now can we go down, or what? I think I'm growing a beard."

I put my hand to the side of his face, and he immediately halted. I looked at his lips, his smooth jaw line. Forever a teenager; forever beautiful and pure. "If you grew a beard, you'd look odd," I said softly. I brushed my thumb over his lips and felt the hot breath.

Edward looked down at me, his eyes widening. I saw the blush creeping up his face as my hand slid from his cheek to his chest. I liked his chest; it was warm and broad shouldered. I leaned into him and rested my cheek against it, breathing in his scent. Clean and masculine, yet with an otherworldly tinge. Through the thin layer of fabric, I felt his heart racing.

"What are you doing?" he whispered. His hands had magically woven around my waist and clutched me to him.

"You smell good," I offered as an explanation. I closed my eyes slightly and breathed him in again. "_Really_ good."

"Is it because of the cookies I made?"

I chuckled. "No. I can't accurately describe it. Just try to imagine one of those Axe deodorizing spray commercials and you might get a clue." My hands traveled from his chest to his lower back. I felt his muscles contract slightly.

"Axe?" he repeated, confused. "What's that?"

"Nothing. You'll learn about it soon enough." My eyes strayed to his mouth and locked there. Blood started to rush through my veins and I could feel myself loosing it a little. He was gorgeous; I really wanted to feel my lips against his again. I wanted him to admit to me finally that he loved me as much as I loved him.

"I really want to kiss you," I murmured.

Edward had his eyes half closed, his lips parting slightly. There was a rigidness about him, as if he was battling something within himself; I knew he was. But which side was winning? I came so close to him that our noses were touching, daring him to do what he wanted. Carefully, I brushed my lips against his, the faintest of all kisses. He shivered.

Suddenly, he pushed me against the wall. I looked at him, alarmed, and saw that his eyes looked heated, his face a little flushed. His grip on my shoulders grew tighter as he put his lips to my ear. "Is it bad that I really want to kiss you too?"

My heart raced. "No."

And with that settled, he did what I had wanted him to do ever since the first time he had laid lips on me; he kissed me, good and long.

There was no holding back with this kiss. There weren't any whispered words that only exist in romance novels. There weren't any introductory, soft kisses that worked up to the real one. There was just raw need, savage and steamy.

His tongue flicked against my teeth, wanting entrance. I gave it to him instantly. He invaded, tasting my mouth. I did the same; his scent was there, more concentrated. It tasted amazing. It felt even better when he twined his fingers through my hair and deepened the kiss. I felt like I was soaring to the skies. I never wanted this to end. My roaming hands slid into his back pockets, pressing him against me; he felt really hard.

I smiled against his lips. An angel with a really bad erection. Wow, you didn't come across that everyday.

Unfortunately, Edward stopped way too soon for my preference. He pulled back and breathed heavily against the door, letting me catch my own breath again. His lips were swollen and red, fresh from the kiss. A mischievous sparkle that made me feel way too hot was in his spring green eyes. "Sorry about that."

"I'm not," I gasped out.

"It's just . . . I hope you know that if I'm technically _dead_."

"I don't care if you are, Edward," I said truthfully. "I say that pursuing a relationship with you would be a wonderful idea. I don't care about the consequences."

A spasm of pain flickered across his face. "You realize that I'll eventually have to leave you. Do you really think that by falling in love you can heal more quickly?" he demanded. "Bella, if you fall in love with me and I abandon you, I'll never forgive myself."

"I'll join you in Heaven someday," I pointed out. "I just might look like a shriveled old lady by the time I go there."

"What happened to not believing in God? That includes Heaven."

I shrugged a little. "I believe in him to some extent, I guess. But I prefer looking at it in a skeptical manner."

He rolled his eyes again. I noticed just how sarcastic my guardian was becoming; a little _too_ sarcastic. "Figures that you would. But still, the idea of being partners with someone who is going to leave is just a little odd, don't you think? It's a temporary thing. It's not permanent enough." A rosy blush filled his cheeks. "My hold on you isn't permanent enough."

I put my hand on his shoulder. "Your hold on my heart is unbreakable. Don't doubt that."

He looked up at me miserably. "How can I not? As soon as I have my mission completed, you'll find someone to stay with you and live your life out with. To have children. To _die_ with. How could I let you give that all up for me? Bella, I've had my chance, and I blew it! I lived once and then I died! My chance at love died along with it," he said quietly. He wouldn't look me in the eyes anymore.

"That's ridiculous! I would give all those things just to be with you _because_ I love you! Sometimes people need to sacrifice things for love."

"Exactly. And I'm not letting you sacrifice you life for me." He glowered at the basement door. "So are we going to go down there, or not?"

I threw my hands in the air, exasperated. "I'm not going down there. You do it yourself if you want," I snapped. He flinched, but I just brushed past him to my room, where my bad mood could mellow itself out.

"Bella. . . . ,"

"Whatever. If you don't want me in that way, all you had to do was just say it to my face and not make up excuses."

"But, I—!" He cut himself off, remaining silent and reluctant. He had a desperate expression.

"You know," I said bitingly, "For a little while, I thought that perhaps for once, a guy I liked would like me back just as much. I thought that you could be in love with me, too. That was the only thing that gave me the courage to fight off Lauren! Because I thought that I had something to live for. Thanks for waking me up from _that _dream."

Suddenly, he gave me a fierce look. "Bella, you need to realize that sometimes, people leave others _because_ it's the best thing for them! Do you think that I'd leave if I had a choice? I wouldn't! Because. . . . ," He gulped, his face flushed into a deeper red. He still looked fairly angry, but there were rage-induced tears starting to form in his eyes.

"Because what?" I was cautious to make my tone more controlled. He did look awfully upset, like anything could set him over the edge.

He closed his eyes briefly, and a tear started to slide down. "Because I _do_ love you, alright? I am crazy in love with you, and I can't stand it! I can't stand the fact that it can never last! I can't deal with the fact that we can't be together! I can't bear with the fact that _I'm not human!"_

"Edward, I. . . ." I didn't know what to think. My emotions were a whirlwind of blends and colors, making absolutely no coherent sense at all. I was unbelievably happy that he had admitted it, and the strange high of triumph was making my heart palpitate.

But Edward didn't look happy; in fact, he looked anguished, like someone was stabbing his heart with a sharp object. That made me upset; he deserved happiness, not depression. I extended my hand out to him slowly, trying to get him close to me.

Edward shuddered away from my hand and slowly backed farther from me. He was at the end of the hall, grief stricken. Even over eight feet away, I could see his tears streaking down his face. "Bella, I can't. . . . I can't. . . . ,"

"Edward. . . . ,"

"Dammit! I wish this never happened! I wish I were still alive!" he shouted. Unexpectedly, he balled his hands into fists and hit the wall with so much force that the plaster cracked from under him. I jumped when part of the wall came off when he withdrew his hand from it. A hole had formed, the size of a small cannonball, where he had punched it.

I looked at him, suddenly frightened. I'd never seen him so angry. "Edward, relax a little."

"No! I won't relax a little!" he hissed. "Do you know what I wish, more than anything? More than anything in the world?"

I shook my head slowly, anxiety building.

"I WISH I NEVER COMMITED SUICIDE!" he screamed. The air around him started glowing purple, a strong, pulsing power. It lit up the hallway violently, nearly blinding me. I saw his giant ivory wings shoot out from his back and spread out, the white feathers bristling with agitation. He whirled around, striding furiously to the front door, taking his pulsating ethereal light with him.

I heard the door slam shut as he left.

I vaguely remember slumping to the ground, onto my knees. I also vaguely remember a fierce reasoning to run out after him and beat the crap out of that boy for going through such a meltdown. And somewhere in my subconscious, my mother's voice told me to get up and go get him.

But all I could think of was what he had said as he had left the house; _'I wish I had never committed suicide.' _

What had happened to make him kill himself?

-

-

-

-

-

-

_-_

**(A/N Hello, my demons and angels. Back again, after a very long time recuperating from little dramas that occur from my life. I've recently completed my first fanfiction, **_**Vampire Kisses:**__**Starlight, **_**and I have mixed feelings. On the one hand, I knew it would end some day and I wanted it to be over with eventually. But on the other hand, it feels as if a part of me died. Like a child of mine just turned into a bat and flew from the nest. **

**I'll apologize in advance for this chapter. I was busy trying to write the ending of **_**Starlight**_**, which is very emotional and depressing (a common element to my stories, I've noticed :/) and attempting to finish this as well. My computer caught a virus that made it extremely risky to post this on the internet, so I had issues with that as well. (I haven't posted the ending of **_**Starlight **_**as of yet because I traditionally write it by hand, first. It'll be up soon, though, and hopefully you'll realize just how come this chapter became so emotional.)**

**I will also admit that this chapter was way more OOC then I had originally planned. I mess up when I'm writing more then one story; as in, I forget who's narrating and make Edward narrate Alexander's book and vice versa. That's partly why I haven't completed my other AU stories; because if I worked on them too, I'd go insane! **

**I hadn't planned on him to die by suicide at first; I had imagined him admitting he died in a hospital gown, and was too embarrassed to tell Bella about it. lol The characters are out of my hands, although I feel immensely embarrassed to have destroyed them so. :/ **

**Personally, I think that the next story I'm tackling after HHM is finished, the Afterlife of the Party, will be much more character-friendly. For one, Jake is a good guy in that one; for another, Mike isn't all that bad either. I won't get into too much detail with the plot, but I'd say that that one's my favorite. :)**

**I got EIGHTEEN people asking me do be beta readers! O.o I'm sorry to tell you this, guys, but I find beta readers to be kind of pointless. I mean, it may help with the grammar and stuff for the fanfic, but then it won't be the author's fanfiction anymore. I'm independent; sorry. :)**

**Please, PLEASE make your reviews NOT say anything about how short the chapter was or how I messed up a little about the feeling of the chapter. I already apologized for that. As for reviewers, some of my favorite ones have gone AWOL. :/ WHAT HAPPENED TO BELLYGNOMES? SHE WAS ONE OF MY FAVORITES. :( -sigh- she was so original in reviewing. . . . hopefully Mike didn't murder her. **

**I'll attempt to write more often for this story; it's starting to make me loose interest, which is not a good thing. When I loose interest, the fanfic DIES.) **


	16. Come Clean

**Heaven Help Me**

**Chapter 16: Come Clean**

_**By: RavenMadisonfan**_

**(Edward P.O.V.)**

As I was sitting on a high, wide tree branch just outside the house, my heart rate calmed down to a reasonable pace again. Unfortunately, with my calmer disposition, I realized the full force of my words. I felt myself cringe, remembering my reaction. I couldn't believe I had actually admitted that. How could I have overreacted to such a thing? Where had all my self-control gone? My fingers splayed against my temples and I rubbed them gently.

The rain occasionally missed the prickly canopy hanging over my head and sprinkled onto me. The branch wasn't the best shield against the elements, but it sufficed. Too bad it couldn't do anything against the biting cold. My arms wrapped themselves around my midsection and I rubbed vigorously. It felt a little better; although I still felt the chill seeping through. 

My wings flapped and quivered on either side of my body, my back to the tree. They didn't appreciate the fact that they were slowly getting drenched. I tried pulling them back into my flesh, only half-heartedly summoning my willpower. As I suspected, my wings didn't obey me. I sighed and drew them closer, over my head, creating another shelter to hide out under. A wave of fatigue swept over me and I yawned. 

There was a soft yellow glow spilling out onto the grass from the window of the house. It was the only thing resembling warmth—everything else was stormy and grey. I felt myself sink a little more in despair. Ugh; I should go back and apologize for throwing a temper tantrum. I mean, I had only died when I was seventeen; you'd think that I'd learn not to throw a fit just because I couldn't get her to see that falling in love with me would be impractical for her. 

I should know how someone would react to a loved one's death—I was a living example (or rather undead) of how someone could choose to cope with pain. I couldn't go through a love lost again. 

I crossed my legs a tiny bit and rested the side of my face against one knee. There was a fog rolling in from the west, encasing the tall pines and wooded ground. It reminded me of those black and white photos that I had been so familiar with when I was a child; the forest had an array of shades, namely the faintest grey to velvet black. But at the same time, it had tinges of green to it as well. 

My eyes slid shut quietly. I was emotionally exhausted. I needed sleep, and badly. But I still didn't want to go back inside. Bella's shocked face swam into my conscious through the lethargy overcoming me, sending a violent spasm of pain to my heart. A dart in the darkness, hitting its mark with all the ease and skill of time itself—that's what sadness was. 

Aside from my depression of having caused Bella to feel afraid of me, I also felt ashamed. I could have handled that much more maturely if I had wanted to; I just wasn't thinking too clearly. But then again, I really _couldn't_ deal with the fact that I wasn't human anymore. I could feel, think, hurt . . . but I could never be human. I was just immortal, forever frozen in time like a snowflake in a never ending winter. And Bella _did _deserve so much more. 

I'd think it over in the morning, I reasoned. I was about to fall asleep in my tree, and I didn't want to risk falling out of it and plummeting to Earth _again._ There wouldn't be a vehicle to catch me this time. I yawned again and jumped down from my perch lithely, my wings spread out in an arch like a parachute to ease my fall. My feet touched the soft, wet soil with ferns spread about. An owl hooted nearby; it sounded like I was in a lake because every sound wavered.

The front door creaked open when I got to the porch. Bella must have heard my footsteps against the wood; my drowsiness made them seem louder to my ears. But then again, I was staggering to the door at this point, so that might have made it noisier. 

"Edward?" She didn't look too pleased. I'd been expecting that, but it still stung a little that I had made her angry. 

And then it happened—all the energy in my body just _vanished_. It was like someone blowing the flames from the candles on a birthday cake. My legs collapsed from under me and I was sent sprawled out in front of her like some lifeless doll. I felt a sharp, raw sting as my wings shot back into place; they were way too fast for comfort. Strangely enough, I knew what was happening, but I didn't have the strength to do anything but lay there. I felt my eyelids slid down. _Sleep. . . ._

"Edward!" Bella gasped. Strong, feminine hands held me up. 

"I'm fine." It came out as a garbled sigh. 

"Hold on; I'll get you to bed," she promised. She grunted as she pulled my weight onto her back, and heaved me through the door. I tried making it easier for her by attempting to shift my weight, but that just made it worse; I nearly caused her to drop me back down. So I gave up trying to help and just let myself be pulled through the house.

My back rested on something soft, which I recognized as her bed. There was a perfume in the air that I associated with Bella now. It reminded me of freesia and hot summer nights of a time that didn't exist for me anymore. My face rested against her pillow, breathing in her scent that lingered there. My heart squeezed a little. 

There was an incline to the mattress as she sat down on it. "Edward? What happened?"

I groaned a little bit. I think I muttered, "Sleep; I want."

"Listen, I'm sorry that I did that; it was really bad for me to snap at you when you didn't deserve it," she apologized. "But I had no idea that you'd wig out." 

"Sorry," I mumbled. My conscious was slipping away fast. "Overreaction. My fault. Sleep now, please. . . ."

The bed squeaked as she got up. Her voice sounded worried as she said, "Fine; I'll sleep on the couch tonight." I heard the door open.

I forced myself to string together a sentence. "No . . . don't . . . . ," I yawned.

She paused. "Are you sure? I could always sleep in the living room," she insisted.

I made a small incline of my head, signifying a yes. Yes; I wanted to be near her a little bit tonight. I always snuck into her bed so that the Pull—the magnetic force connecting our life forces together—didn't get too bad. But as a general rule, I always slept as far away as the bed allowed it. That first night when she had thrown an alarm clock at me taught me a lesson: never crawl into someone's bed uninvited. Or to at least get out of said bed before the other person woke up. Tonight, if only for once, I wanted to sleep closer to her with her approval. 

"Well . . . okay." She sounded a little unsure, but willing. I felt her body rest awkwardly beside mine. A little sneakily, I nudged myself over to her a few more inches so that we could touch. When our skin made contact, I felt the familiar thrill ignite in me; my heart pounded in my ears and I felt nervous. I thought that it was funny that even though I was partially passed out, I could react to her like this. Some things never change. 

She weaved an arm around me, placing her cheek against my forearm. It was relaxing and slightly empowering—a girl clutching your arm feels very masculine— having her there. I breathed slower, content. And around that time I must have dosed off with my forehead resting against her own.

_I was five years old. It was my older brother's birthday, and I was wiggling impatiently in my seat, waiting for him to open up my present to him. I'd gotten him something really good; it had cost me the whole dime that I had been saving. He'd like it. _

_My brother and I looked very similar. I was younger by about two years, but we both had a sunburned auburn hair color. We also had a healthy smattering of freckles on our cheeks; we had a pale skin tone and green eyes, so having freckles was a given, I suppose. We weren't Irish or Scottish, like most people believed because of our looks. We were actually of French descent. Louis could speak it fairly well and was trying to teach me some of it—I wasn't as quick a learner as he was, which he reminded me of every opportunity he got. _

_Louis had longer hair than I did, saying that he didn't like how the style of hair for men was worn these days, in 1906. He swore that one day in the future, guys would grow out their hair and girls would cut theirs to men's lengths. My mother just rolled her eyes and smiled at him when he brought this up. _

"_Come on, already!" I ordered him. He smirked. _

"_Maybe I shouldn't, than."_

_I shrugged, playing along with his game. "Fine; I'll keep it." I made another grab for his present, but he smacked my hand away playfully and grinned. _

"_No way!"_

"_But you just said—"_

_He snorted. "I say a lot of things, Ed. I once said that one day man shall visit the moon; but that isn't going to happen, now will it?" He dragged his gift closer to him. "I'll be taking this."_

_I adjusted my trousers; the suspenders were annoying to have on. "Thought so," I said smugly. _

_My mother raised an eyebrow at our antics and just tapped her fingers against the dining table to tell us to hurry it up. My father was standing up near us, armed with an old-fashioned camera, ready to capture us on film. I wasn't happy about that; the flash that it gave out blinded me whenever it went off. _

_Louis ripped through the wrapping paper and exposed a bag of marbles. He gasped. "Oh . . . they're so pretty. Thanks, Ed!" he enthused, a big smile stretched across his boyish face. The camera flashed, and the uncomfortable boom of light brought the blindness I had predicted. I rubbed my tiny fists against my eyes._

_As he dumped out the metal balls onto the table, I focused in on one of them in particular; a topaz marble, the color of a cat's eye. Louis and I must have noticed it at the same time, because before I could get to it, he had already snatched it up. _

"_Hey!" I protested, grabbing it from his hand. He didn't have time to think before I had stolen it away from him. _

_The marble was cool and metallic in my palm—I had always admired this one out of the entire collection. Even though it was my brother's birthday gift, I had the right to look at it. _

"_You like that one?" he asked. I looked up suspiciously, wondering if he was plotting to take it away. _

"_Yes."_

_Louis smiled. "Then you can keep it as a thank you. As long as I can keep the others."_

"_Really?" I was shocked. This was a really nice marble; and my brother was just going to sacrifice it without a fight? _

"_Sure; but you need to promise to give it back to me when we're older, okay?" he asked. I nodded, and he held out his pinky. "Pinky swear?"_

_I interlocked fingers with him. "Pinky swear." I gave him a smile that showed my missing front teeth from when I had fallen from the tree in the backyard. _

_My father took a picture of me while I had my guard down; another flash erupted, startling me. When my wits returned, I glared at my family, who was roaring in laughter at my expression. "Gotcha!" my dad crowed. _

The memory faded away to another one abruptly. I was dazed and confused by the rapid change. I had made it a habit not to think of the past throughout the whole century I had existed; it was painful for me to remember much. Every now and again, when I felt at ease, a snippet of a happy memory would come back, but I'd never dreamt about it before. The whole ordeal was interesting and yet excruciating simultaneously. 

_Christmas, year 1910; I was nine, Louis was eleven. We were still a closely knit couple of brothers, despite the fact that he had more friends than I did. He was always the generous one though, as he demonstrated almost everyday. I didn't take much notice to it; it was normal Louis behavior. _

_He flipped a curled strand of red hair from his face (it was past his shoulders by now) and called over to me to help him unwrap a huge package with a bright red ribbon that was in the middle of the parlor floor. _

_I was still tired and walked over to him unwillingly, wanting to return to my bed. I had on a white child's bed gown that made me look like a rather disgruntled choir boy. Louis was wearing a larger version of mine, but instead of looking like part of a choir he looked like an adolescent girl. And yet he could still whip my butt at baseball and wrestling; go figure. _

"_I wonder what it is," he said merrily. His fingers poked at the box and it wiggled._

"_You don't think it could be . . . ?" I exchanged a look with him, our excitement growing. We had been begging our parents to let us get one, but we didn't think they'd honestly crack. _

"_Only one way to find out for sure," Louis stated, resolute. We grabbed onto the lid of the box and pulled it up with growing tension. Out popped the shaggy head of a West Highland white terrier. It yipped and wagged its tail when Louis bent down to pet it. _

"_Let's name him Wolf," I suggested slyly. Louis scowled at my teasing. He didn't like wolves very much; he was sure that werewolves existed near the Olympic Peninsula. He also thought that our neighbor, Mrs. Hermann, was part of an underground society for them. But that was my brother, alright. Always the crazy one. _

"_You know what? Fine. He looks like a wolf, anyway." He crossed his arms stubbornly. His gaze lowered to the tail wagging dog and brightened. "Want to play fetch, Wolf?"_

_I joined in on the game soon enough when I saw how much fun it was, chasing a puppy all around the house until you accidentally knocked over one of Mother's antique china plates. _

Again, the room melted away, and with it was its cheerful atmosphere. I was in a different room now, one with a boy in a hospital bed. With a jerk, I realized that I was staring down right at myself again. Incredulously, I watched myself open a letter with weak fingers. I looked terrible—I had sweat dipping down my face and my cheeks had a more gaunt quality about them. There were deep shadows beneath my eyes, tinged with red. I had been crying.

The nurse had given me the letter to read; she had said it was urgent. As I looked at myself reading the words of the page in front of me on the bed, growing more urgent with every second, I finally remembered what this was. Where I was, why I was there. 

And what I ultimately ended up doing.

I saw myself drop the letter, my eyes completely devoid of emotion. I had become a zombie, staring out at the hospital window without seeing the blue sky out of it. I saw myself start to tremble—I, the one who wasn't in the hospital gown, was doing the same thing, too. Quaking with dread as I observed myself stepping slowly from off the cotton mattress, my bare feet against clean floors. 

_No._ Not this again. 

Desperately, I tore myself away from the memory and opened my eyes a fraction. I saw pale skin; Bella had her forehead against mine. I had forgotten about that. She was breathing deeply, so I knew she was asleep. Her face was peaceful, untainted. 

As soon as I moved, though, she stirred awake. "Edward?" she asked, squinting. 

"Yeah?" I managed to create a passable smile.

"I had the weirdest dream just now." She sat up gingerly. 

"Not as weird as mine," I muttered. 

She looked cautiously at me. It reminded me of what one might do to calm down a frightened animal. "Uh . . . . ,"

"Yes?"

"Well, I was wondering . . . . ,"

"Mm-hmm?" I pressured. 

"Um, you're probably going to think I'm nuts for asking this," she admitted sheepishly. "But do you have a brother?"

My eyebrows went up. Way up. Possibly as high as my dangerously accelerated pulse. How was it possible that she had found out about Louis? I had just dreamt about him, and now _she_ saw him, too? 

My unasked question hovered in short shimmers in the air around us. Rather grimly, I inspected the atmosphere. My magic was hovering all over the place; it was resting against Bella's forehead, too. 

"So that's how," I surmised, touching her face gently. I rubbed off some excess magic with my thumb. "I must have subconsciously been dumping power into you, and along with it came my memories."

"So you _do_ have a brother," she said, her eyes widening. "I can't believe it; it's pretty weird how you managed to transfer some memories of that into me."

Tell me about it. "I wasn't expecting it either."

"Are you sick? You pretty much fell on top of me when I opened the door." 

"I did_ not_ fall on top of you!" I felt my face heat up. "I fell on the porch, and you know it."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, what a brilliant defense." 

"I like to get the facts straight," I said simply. "And to be honest, I can't really say for sure why I was so exhausted. One moment I was fine sitting in a tree, and the next I was so tired I was about to drop out of it." I thought about it a little more. "But . . . it may have been the effects of over-used magic. You know that I've been having trouble with my wings lately; so maybe when I got upset and they managed to escape, it caused my body to have a less aware state." 

Bella pondered this. She nodded slightly. "That makes sense. Although I wanted to ask you another question."

When I noticed the uncomfortable way her shoulders were held, slightly hunched, I was immediately wary. We were getting into very personal territory. I waited for her to begin. 

"I saw . . . before you woke up . . . a hospital room." Her gaze was serious. "Edward, why were you in the hospital?"

I stiffened. I was unwilling to let her know why; my past was remarkably similar to hers, but I had chosen a different way to live my life. Or rather, end it. But that was just the problem—she deserved to know about it since I had opened my mouth and let slip about my suicide, anyway. Perhaps it was better if I just came clean. 

But what if after I told her what I had done, she was ashamed of me? What if she wanted to end it like I did? I couldn't let that happen. I'd _never_ let that happen—I had sworn to make her happy, and I'd be damned if she ended her life like me. 

Bella slid her hand onto mine. Our eyes connected for a partial second before I had to look away. "Please. Please tell me."

I closed my eyes briefly. "Please don't make me do this," I begged. "I really don't want to."

"Why not?" she demanded. "Why won't you tell me?"

I focused on the red lamp shade on her nightstand. "Because; I don't want to."

"Ugh!" She threw her hands up in exasperation. "Why do you have to be so difficult over something like this?"

I felt a stab in the middle of my chest and wrapped my arms around my torso. "Because it's something I don't like to think about, alright?"

"I already know about the suicide thing, as you screamed it in my face," she pointed out. I flinched. "So why can't you tell me?"

I sighed, dragging my eyes back to her imploring face. I gauged her reaction; she was set in a firm expression. She wasn't going to let this one go at all. "Fine," I finally said, defeated. "But you have to promise me that this won't give you ideas. If I find out that after I told you my story that you tried to kill yourself too, I'll chain you to a chair for the rest of eternity." 

Her chocolate brown eyes glared at me. "Funny, Edward."

I raised an eyebrow. "Who said I was kidding?"

She was unimpressed. "Just tell me already. The suspense is painful."

"You know that I had a brother," I started, trying to think of a way to explain this without feeling the air crushed out of me. 

"Yes; I was just made aware of that fact, thanks." She sounded annoyed.

I stopped and gave her a pointed look, slightly amused. Bella fell silent, waiting for me to continue. "I never told you about him because it never came up in discussion. Whenever I think about him, it's . . . difficult for me. I was closer to him than anyone else in the world, even my own parents. He was the only one who stuck up for me when I was getting bullied by his friends. He was the only one who let me play with him when I was bored. Louis was . . . really my only reason for caring about anything."

I heard a sharp intake of breath. "I know how you feel about him, then," she whispered. 

I smiled weakly. "Yes, I'm sure you do. My brother was to me exactly what your mother was to you. He was everything." I swallowed down the ache in my throat. "And of course, I didn't know how important he was to me until he was gone from me forever. It was as if someone had taken away a sunset; everything was brilliant, even though the air was getting dimmer. And then, abruptly, it fell to night."

She touched my arm gently. 

"Bella . . . you and I are more similar than I'm sure you imagined. For example," I grazed the silver locket he had around her neck, "that necklace."

Her fingers clasped tightly around it. "What do you mean?" she demanded.

Oh, boy. This was going to be difficult. "Well . . . that locket you're wearing?"

"What? It isn't cursed, is it?" 

"No, it isn't." I paused. "It was my brother's."

She gave me a blank look. "But my mom said that her mom gave it to her. It was a generation to generation hand-me-down."

"She told you a story that went along with it, did she not?"

"The one about the witch and her little sister. . . ." she murmured. "But are you saying that your brother was a _warlock_?" 

I shook my head. "You can't be so sure of oral history, Bella. No, my family had no magic in it. We were normal. However, the locket story that your mother told you was a version of what had happened to me and my brother."

She gasped suddenly. "Hold on! If this was your brother's, than. . . ." Her eyes were as big as saucers. "Than we're related!"

I laughed. "Actually, we're not. That's part of my story, too—how the locket fell into the hands of another human, one that wasn't of our family."

"Well, I'm all ears." She gave me a wide smile and held the locket, the one that looked almost as it did over a full century ago, over her heart. 

I closed my eyes again, reflecting in the past. Louis grinned at me joyfully from the darkness of my eyelids. I could feel his warm, jubilant laughter. For a split second, I felt at home again. Back to where everything was beautiful. 

"There was someone I loved very much. Someone I died for."

-

-

-

-

**(A/N Sorry, my angels and demons. I'll stop the chapter here; next chapter I'll post is dedicated solely to Edward's story. It's a tragic one, although it will probably never get any justice because I'm a poor writer. / I'm passable, but I'm not fantastic. I have no sense of time, really. One moment he's in a tree, the next he's in a bed. –Sigh- eh, that's my life, though. **

**I've noticed that most 'reviews' are in response to my author's notes more than my actual fanfiction. That MIGHT be because I had written more to the author note than the actual story. –Guilty look- It's just that I'm having so many other ideas that I'm unsure what I should do to end this one fast. I have other AU stories that must be completed, after all. **

**I think that this chapter was inspired in part by an Emilie Autumn song: "The Art of Suicide." It's on my myspace. I suggest you check it out.**

**Believe it or not, I would like a flame for this chapter. Too many "great going, post more" reviews sicken me. / So even if you loved this chapter (long stretch, I know) try to attach a creative flame. :D For example:**

**Creative flame: "That sucked. I'd say to stuff this crap in a blender, but then I'd feel bad for the poor thing for having to consume this garbage. Do us all a favor and shoot this story in the foot."**

**But do NOT put a stupid flame: "Boo, you stink."**

**I'll post more chapters soon.)**


	17. Suicidal

"Louis was an angel from the start, you could say. He was liked by everyone who came into his presence. Maybe it was his natural charisma. Maybe it was his optimistic outlook on everything, even though things got gloomy. And maybe it was even so shallow as liking his looks; he was like a painted version of a seraph as he grew older. He grew out his hair in a longer fashion than what the men wore back in the early 1900's. He had a soft face, probably smoothed out by his sensitivity. Every guy wanted to be his best friend; every girl wanted to be his sweetheart. But my brother wasn't into the teenage drama—yes, it existed even back then—and made sure he had his priorities straight.

"I think that one of the more memorable memories I have with him would be when he was teaching me how to play piano. Being the perfect entity that he was, Louis was an excellent musician by age fourteen. I wanted to be taught by him, hoping that some of his natural talent would come onto me." I stopped, unsure what I should say next. How could I convey how I felt to Bella accurately? I wasn't the best with words, I'd admit it. But I wanted her to understand the awe I had felt towards my sibling, the love for my brother. The eventual demise of our relationship. And with her being a single child, trying to imagine that form of bond might be hard. When my attention was caught to the fading glimmer on her forehead, I knew what I could do.

"Do you mind?" I touched her temple gently, pushing a strand of hair out of the way.

She blinked, startled by the sudden movement. After getting used to it, she nodded after a second of contemplation. "As in sharing memories?" she asked.

"Yes; I was thinking that it might be useful for me to perform that magic in this circumstance. It's basic magic, and as I've proved only minutes ago, I can do it in my sleep." I smiled a little. "It's sort of like my ability to read minds, except an opposite effect."

"So you can give me memories if you try, but you can't read my thoughts?"

I hesitated. "Well, sort of. I would only be able to read your thoughts at the time the memory takes place. That's pretty much it, though. And that's simply a theory."

Bella looked unhappy with the idea. "You're_ sure_ that you won't be able to read anything else?"

"I can't really be sure, to be honest. I haven't shared memories with a human before; but still, the point is moot. It's me who's going to be doing the memory giving, remember? I can only see your memories if you willingly give them to me while the process is taking place."

"Well . . . alright." She sighed. "Let's go through with it."

Satisfied, I laid back down on the mattress. "I have to get comfortable before using magic," I explained. "If I'm going to be using some right now, I'm going to need to make both of us more vulnerable to it. Hopefully that will reduce the amount of magic I use and I won't be too tired after performing it."

She rested next to me, pressing her forehead to mine again. "Like this?"

Her breath smelled sweet; it temporarily dazed me. "Yes," I whispered. "Just like that." My eyes closed partially, all the more to enjoy her fragrance. That hot, concentrated flavor of spice that I knew she tasted like; her breath was only a perfume of it, but it was as much as I'd ever get. I felt my lips ache. Why not give in to what I wanted? She was right there, she was willing. It was only a kiss. It was only love.

A verse from Romeo and Juliet floated into my brain. 'With these violent delights come violent ends.' Hadn't it ended terribly for them? At least I didn't have to worry about how Romeo killed himself upon thinking that Juliet was dead—I couldn't die, anyway. At least, not again.

I focused on the task at hand, abandoning my thoughts of what couldn't be. Sadness didn't help matters; I needed to calm down in order to make it as easy as it had been before. Immediately, I shot down my emotions. It was time to reveal my past to her, no matter how ashamed of it I was.

The tingling sensation started near my brow, pooling in between where our skin made contact. The room swirled drunkenly, an after effect of using this kind of power, I supposed. As the light of the room slowly melted away to a dark tunnel, I grabbed Bella's hands with my own.

"Do you see a light over there?" she asked, meaning the dim glow that gradually filled the dark space we were in. The light at the end of the tunnel.

"Yes. We're getting close to my memories." My voice was fading away. It seemed as if a filter had fallen upon us in this strange passage.

She gripped my hand tighter.

The dark tunnel ebbed away sooner than I had anticipated; we had landed in a Victorian drawing room. A rosy hardwood floor was beneath our feet. There was a blue rug with a fleur design in the middle of the room, surrounded by plush, inviting armchairs. On top of the rug rested an old fashioned coffee table, an ashtray with the smoking embers of a cigar and a newspaper laid across its polished surface. In the corner of the room, residing on the top of a beautiful piano, was a wooden radio; there was a knob on it, and it looked almost alien.

Sunlight poured in from the wide, open window. It seemed almost warm, although we couldn't feel it. As this was a memory, and we weren't a part of it, weather didn't pose as a problem. It reminded me a tiny bit of my time in purgatory. It came down on the potted plants on the window sill.

"This is so cool!" Bella squealed, startling me. I had forgotten about her for a split second. "This is just like the time turner in Harry Potter!"

"The _what_?"

"You know; Harry Potter. Boy wizard? Messy hair and glasses? Lightning bolt scar? His friend Hermione got a hold on a necklace that could send you back in time? Any of this ringing a bell?"

I shook my head. "I don't know what the heck you're talking about."

As she opened he mouth to explain about this mysterious boy wizard, two auburn-haired boys sprinted into the room. Instinctively, I stiffened and shrank back. The boys didn't pay any notice to us, so my stealth wasn't needed.

Bella walked closer to the taller one as the children sat down at the piano bench. As Louis lifted the piano key cover nimbly, she raised her eyebrows. "You were right; he is slightly girlish," she admitted. She looked down at him again, at his large smile when my thirteen year old self attempted to play Chopsticks. "I like his eyes. They're very kind, not at all like most older brothers." She went over to the other side of the bench, to where I was.

"Good, Ed—just try to remember to put your finger there." Louis grabbed the hand of my younger self and placed it gently on a different set of keys. "I had the same problem with that one note," he said. "I hated it. But I learned to put it in the right place eventually."

"But Louie," I whined, "I'm never going to be as good as you are at this. Why even bother with it?" My arms slumped dejectedly at the sides.

Bella turned to me. "'Ed?' As in the talking horse?"

I shrugged. "So what? We had nicknames; that's normal. Now be quiet. I want to listen."

Louis laughed a little. "Ed, stop talking like that. You're such a pessimist."

I saw myself pout a little. "Am not."

"Yeah, you are. Try thinking positively for once." He poised his hands carefully over the piano. "Watch what I do and try to mimic it," he instructed. And then his hands flew along the keys, creating his own special rendition to the original song. It was beautiful and complex, fun yet sad. It was similar to the fifteen year old playing it.

Bella whistled. "Impressive."

"The boy was Mozart in the making," I stated. "It was hard living up to his legend."

When he finally stopped playing, I watched as I tried to copy what he had done. I was fairly good, but not at all as excellent a player as my brother was. However, he was very supportive, nodding along with the tune. I stopped playing half way through it and cracked my knuckles.

"Uh . . . Louis?" I asked, sounding nervous. I looked uncomfortable, sitting there next to him.

He nodded, slightly confused. "Yes?"

"I saw you with Molly yesterday," my younger self rushed. My brother froze, his expression wiped blank.

"So what? Molly's my best friend."

"Nothing else?" I pressed.

He smiled the tiniest bit. "No. why are you asking me such questions, Edward?"

"Because . . . well . . . I accidentally walked in on you while you were . . . um . . ." My face was a bright red. "Kissing."

One of his fingers tapped a key absent-mindedly. "Molly kissed me. It was nothing; I set her straight soon afterward. I like her as a friend, nothing else."

"Oh," I said, surprised. "It just seemed as if you might be together as something . . . more than that."

"No; I'm not interested in anyone in that way. Molly thought that we could have been; but it isn't like that at all."

"Girls like you a lot," I told him. "Why won't you try to like one back? I like Molly—she's nice."

He sighed, his green eyes—just like mine—suddenly saddened and ancient for his age. "I like Molly too. She's a great friend. But I can't force myself to like her in a romantic way."

"Is there anyone you like, then?" I insisted.

He smiled, amused. "Why are you so curious?"

I saw myself shrug. "Dunno; I just think it's like of weird that you can't like girls."

His eyes widened and he sounded as if he had had the wind knocked out of him. "Uh . . . Ed? Can you do me a favor?"

"What?"

He looked away. It seemed as if he was wishing he could melt into the background. "Don't tell our parents what I'm about to tell you, okay?" he demanded. I saw myself nod curiously.

I felt a sudden chill. That's right, _this_ memory. It was a very awkward memory, and I wasn't entirely sure if it was a good one. But still, I wondered how Bella would react to what he was about to admit—it had freaked me out at first.

"Edward," Bella hissed. "Look!" She pointed to the ceiling, and I looked up. The ceiling was disappearing back into darkness; we were leaving this memory for a new one.

"Alright, I'm going to tell you something kind of . . . unheard of," Louis began, his face serious. "I don't like any of the girls who like me because . . . ." He paused, unsure of himself.

The darkness started to grow closer to Bella and I—we'd leave in a minute. I leaned over to my brother, placing a hand on his shoulder. I couldn't touch him; my hand fell straight through his skin. No! I needed to tell him—

"Edward, I'm homosexual. I only like _boys._" He was utterly honest; he wasn't kidding. There was a vulnerability in the way he looked at me, almost beseechingly, trying to apologize for what he was. Right now, over eighty years later, I understood that he was trying to seek comfort from me, a way to know that he wasn't a freak of nature. But as a thirteen year old, there was no way I could.

I watched helplessly as I backed away from my brother, shaking my head as if to deny it. "No," I muttered. "There's no way that you're. . . ." I jumped up from the piano bench, unable to contain myself from the astonishment.

In the early 1900's it was illegal to be gay; so he had been right. It _was_ pretty much unheard of. And forget about telling our parents. They wouldn't be able to handle it at all.

Louis recoiled. But he shook his head slightly. "I'm not kidding."

I saw myself clench my fists. My face was disgusted as I looked down on the brother I had loved so dearly. "Get away from me," I said bitterly. Louis flinched. "Freak!" I abruptly turned and ran out of the room, up the staircase.

My brother was left in the silence of the room, all by himself. There was a look of complete hopelessness in his eyes; they welled up with tears. Slowly, he put his hands to his forehead and sank further into his despair. "I'm sorry," he whispered to himself.

The darkness was engulfing Bella and me; I had only one chance left. Quickly, I knelt down and kissed the top of Louis' head. "Don't be," I murmured. "I still love you; you're still Louis."

He couldn't hear me, not that I expected him to. I could only watch as he sat on the piano bench, his locket hanging from his neck, glinting in the disappearing sunlight. The dark tunnel had returned—Louis vanished.

**(Bella P.O.V.)**

I had been taken aback by his brother's secret, but Edward's reaction had been the real shocker. He had been so ruthless to him. Without even a second thought, he had called him a freak. It made me wonder what he would have said to me if we had met back then. A witch? A monster? How could someone so sweet have done that?

I had known that back in this time period it had been taboo to be homosexual, but it was disconcerting how family members could turn on each other over it. Edward regretted his actions, at least. He had a grim expression as we entered his next memory. It was obvious that he was brooding.

"Edward?" I asked. He didn't look at me, but I knew he was listening. "You didn't mean it," I assured him. "He'll know that sooner or later."

He bit his lip. "But how can you be so sure?"

"He'll know." I gently squeezed his hand. "Trust me."

"Don't be so sure about that," he said darkly. "You haven't seen the events yet to come."

There was more? I was about to ask what else would happen, when the tunnel started to get lighter again. Instead of talking, I just prepared myself for what lay ahead. I heard someone talking from a distance. It got louder and louder until we finally arrived.

We were in a cramped, poorly lit kitchen with something smoldering in a fireplace. There was a table with four shabby chairs perched around it. A man with long red hair was sitting at the head of the table, wearing an army uniform. He seemed odd in it—he was clearly not a fighter at all. His arms were frail even under the dusty colored outfit, and he carried himself with the air of a healer. At the moment, he was reading a letter to a worried looking woman with her hair in a tight bun. We had jumped a few years into the future.

"Your service is required for assisting our troops in the upcoming battle; we need more men over in France to help the cause. Come by the docks by the time you receive this message." The man, or rather, Louis, dropped the letter on top of the table in a bored fashion. "That's what it says in a nut shell, Mother. I'm going to the battle front near Verdun, France."

The woman rushed over to his side and put a hand over his. "No, no! Not my little boy, surely?" she asked. He laughed and patted her back softly. His laughter was like bells, sad church bells.

"I'm going to be fine."

A teenager walked into the room. Bronze hair, not as red as in childhood, that was in a casual disarray, pale skin and a lean body. _Edward_. I stared at him. He looked slightly different from the one I had grown to know. For one, he was in ancient clothes (much different from his new form of dress) that was topped by an old-fashioned hat that a grandfather might wear. You know the ones; the ones that look like that mouse from An American Tail wore.

Another difference was that he didn't look very happy. He edged around Louis with obvious discomfort. His brother watched as he sat down at the farthest possible chair. Edward's mother glared at him, but he ignored it.

"So," he said, inclining his head to the letter on the table, "he's going to war?"

"Don't seem so happy about it, Edward," his mother muttered in agitation. She turned on her heel and exited the kitchen. I think it was her way of pushing them together; if there had been a lock on the kitchen door, she probably would have locked it.

"Yes, Ed. I'm going to the battlefront in France." Louis gave him a friendly smile that he didn't deserve. "J'aime les dames Francais."

"More like the men," Edward said. He touched the letter with his fingertips almost without thinking.

Louis rolled his eyes but his smile grew wider. "Alright. Very clever, Ed; I'll give you that much. Although I don't understand why after four years since I told you that you still haven't sold me out to our parents." He cocked his head to the side, curious. "Why is that, I wonder?"

Edward paused. "Because I promised I wouldn't." He looked up, slightly apologetic. "Louis, I'm really creeped out by it all. I've told you that already."

Louis leaned back in his chair. "Actually, you tried really hard _not_ to talk to me since that day." He sighed, taking the familiar locket from under his shirt. Instinctively, I grabbed my own. When Edward had said they were the same, he hadn't been kidding at all. It seemed odd watching a man wearing my locket.

"You shouldn't have told me!" Edward snapped. Louis didn't even shrink back like the first time he had told Edward; he just sat there and took it. "Do you know how much I wanted to tell our parents and couldn't? It ruined our relationship."

Louis crossed his arms. "Ed, it was you and your prejudice against my sexuality that ruined our relationship. If you could actually accept it, we wouldn't be estranged."

I watched as the other Edward—the one that wasn't next to me, hanging his head in shame—gave his brother a vicious glare. "Why the hell do you get to go to war, and I have to stay behind?" he demanded. "I'm a better fighter than you! I'm of age! I'm seventeen now, I am not a child!"

His brother suddenly dropped his calm disposition. He stood up abruptly, and Edward mimicked him. The tension in the room rose to a stifling level. "Edward," Louis said sharply. "War is never a good thing! If I had a choice, I wouldn't be going. By me going off to fight, I can protect the ones I care about from dying. That is the only time you should ever fight. Real men when know to resort to the blade and when to talk it out; if you are so eager for battle, that only proves you are a little boy."

Edward snorted. "This is coming from a _fag_?"

Louis gaped at him and took a step back. "_Excuse me_?" he snarled. His eyes started to get a little glassy; he was upset.

"You heard me," Edward continued, relentless. "You shouldn't talk about what real men are like if you aren't even a real man. You might have always been the favorite out of the two of us, you might always be the best at everything you do, but I'm the only one who actually knows what you really are." He leaned forward, his hands on the table. "A fag. Someone who shouldn't exist."

There was such an overwhelming amount of betrayal from Louis' heartbroken face that I found myself grinding my teeth. I wanted to beat the living shit out of Edward right now. What the hell was wrong with him?! What happened to loving his older brother? So what if he was gay? Deal with it and move on, why won't you?!

"Hey, Edward?" I growled to the one by my side.

"Yes?" he asked, pained.

"Is it a bad thing if I want to reach over and _strangle_ you?"

"No; I punish myself afterwards. I pay with my life."

We both watched as Louis slowly backed away to the front door, his face crumpled with disbelief. "You can't actually mean that. You're just angry."

"You don't know what the hell I think," he retorted. "If you had, you would have just kept your trap shut. Everything was fine until you had to tell me that. _Why_ did you tell me that?"

Louis had reached the door; his back was against it. "Because I thought that you could accept it," he murmured. "I thought that you could accept _me_. I didn't want anything to be kept between us. But tell me, Ed, was there ever a time that you didn't feel as if I was a freak since I told you?" It sounded as if he was asking him something else; it sounded as if he was asking him for a reason to stay.

Edward's eyes narrowed. "No," he said coldly. "Louis, I can never think of you in the same light again. I wish I could say that I still loved you like a brother, but unfortunately, I can't."

"Edward." Louis was close to crying. "How could you say that? I'm your brother; if you were in my position, I'd still love you."

"Louis." Edward sighed exasperatedly. "I can't deal with this anymore. I can't deal with _you_ anymore. I won't tell Mother or Father as a last respect to you; but as of now, we aren't related."

"Edward! I—"

"Save it. Just go," he ordered. He walked away from his brother again, a note of finality to his stride.

"Well . . . bye then," Louis whispered. The kindness that I had come to associate with him vanished. It wasn't replaced with fury or hatred, the emotions that I might be feeling, but it was the most curious expression I'd seen. It was the expressionless mask again. Zombie-like and lifeless.

He opened the door to the porch outside and shut it quietly behind him. He had left for good, just like Edward had told him to.

When the tunnel came back, I wasn't too sure that I wanted to continue with this tour of depression. I wasn't entirely happy with the idea of Edward being intolerable to oddities, either, but that was largely in part because I was one of the minorities myself. Had that rash boy I had just seen treat his brother terribly been the same person I had fallen for? No; death had changed him. Time had made him wiser.

I was silent as we appeared in another room. There were two wavy-haired nurses with odd, triangle-shaped white hats talking in hushed voices next to a cotton screen. There were jars of perfumed oil lined along the white washed adobe walls on wooden shelves. There was a tall, metal cabinet directly behind the talking pair, filled with containers of cotton balls, tongue depressors, cotton swabs, and a first aid kit. Several beds lined the sides of the room, infirmary-style cotton mattresses with stiff, eggshell colored sheets tucked firmly under the bed. There were four people in the closest beds; an older couple that I didn't recognize, and Edward's parents. They looked terrible—sweat poured off their foreheads in the most unhealthy manner, and they were panting slightly.

"My golly, Nancy," the slightly taller, blond nurse muttered. "I can't believe it; this is our last room to hold patients, and by tomorrow it should be filled completely! This is a real plague on our hands."

The brunette with the square jaw sighed sadly and nodded, gesturing towards the clip board in her hands. "Tell me about it. These people, Mr. and Mrs. Madison, are close to dying. I heard that their son recently caught the bug and is getting sent here as well. Sad, really. It's been months since their elder son was sent away to the war effort in France. Remember? He was that nice man with the red hair who helped out here a few times."

The first one slapped a hand over her mouth in horror. "No! Not the battle of Argonne forest, right? I heard that it was_ terrible_."

Nancy nodded again, her face grim. "Yes—that young man was so kind, too."

There was a knock on the door, stopping the nurses' conversation. A stretcher was wheeled in by a muscular male with a bad buzz cut. The nurses paid more attention to him than to the groaning boy who was clearly in pain on the cot Muscle Man was bringing in. Edward was lying helplessly on his mattress as they set him down near the bed next to his parents. I saw his mom look at him in a dazed way, a small smile appearing. She was happy to have her baby boy back, even if it was in a hospital room.

"I've got more coming," Muscle Man grunted. He had a faint Russian accent.

While I cringed at the gritty sound of his voice, the women both sighed and nodded as if more sick patients were a wonderful thing. Nancy spoke up, "I think that they're," she dropped her voice and looked over in the older couple's direction, "dying. We'll have more room as soon as they move on. How many should we expect?"

The Russian titan thought about that. "Eighteen patients are waiting in the hallway."

The nurses exchanged disturbed glances. "But we only have sixteen beds," Nancy said slowly. "How can we possibly have room for them?"

He shrugged. "I'll try to clear the rooms faster. We'll have to send a few to a different building in order for more space."

Nancy looked back at the new arrival, Edward. He was panting slightly from the heat of his fever. There was a crease near his eyebrows; he was either having a bad dream or he was fighting to stay conscious.

"Wheel him over to the next building, that lady's place. You know the one . . . Shanna Flannery? She's always willing to help out. Maybe she'll have pity on this boy, here."

"But wouldn't giving her the kid cause her to be near the influenza germs that he's carrying?"

Nancy waved a hand nonchalantly. "She's had it before; she's survived. She has to be immune by now. So listen, Ivan; give her the boy."

Ivan gave an irritated sigh. "Alright. But I think it is unethical. What of this boy's family?"

"His parents are right next to him." She pointed to them. Edward's mother was glaring at them with resentful eyes, daring them to go through with it. The effect of her glare was diminished by her sweaty face.

Ivan saw the look she was giving him. He tensed up in the act of wheeling Edward's body out of the room again. "Are you sure we should do this?" he demanded.

"Yes; it's for the best. He won't survive for long if it's as bad as his parents."

The male nurse nodded and took Edward out of the room.

Edward's eyes crinkled open a little. "Mother?' he whispered hoarsely. "Mother, is that you?" he was looking at the frantic sick woman in the room he was getting escorted out of. "Mom! Where are they taking me? Mother!" he cried out weakly, his outstretched hand mimicking his mom's.

"Edward!" His mom coughed violently. As she pulled her hand away from her mouth, I saw blood. My stomach flipped in unease.

"Come on," Edward murmured into my ear. I allowed myself to be pulled through the open door, after Ivan and the stretcher.

The hospital was a dismal place—everything was either stark white or pigeon grey, from the bleached out walls to the strict, business-like furniture that was placed perfectly in the middle of the waiting room. The only source of discord was the bustling of the doctors and the rows of people sweating in stretchers or seats. I covered my mouth and looked at the pair of shoes that were attached to Ivan without thinking; it seemed as if just by looking at the contaminated I could contract the flu myself.

A little boy was crying in the corner, sitting on his mother's lap. She wasn't waking up when he tapped her repeatedly. "Mommy? Mommy! Wake up!"

A man with slicked back hair pulled the boy away. It was obvious that they were both sick, but the man was doing his best to fight the dizziness he must have been feeling. "Thomas, don't cry. Mama is in a better place now."

Tears welled up and went down the little boy's chubby cheeks. His lip quivered. "Mommy isn't dead!"

In a weird way, he reminded me of what Edward had just done with his own mother. A little more then protectively, I grabbed onto his arm and clamped there until we were out of the building. But I wasn't prepared to see the outside lawn.

There were hundreds of medical tents propped up and running; groaning came from the nearest one, and I heard the distinct sound of retching from another. There was a cluster of other sick people getting rushed into the hell hole we had just escaped from. They let the stretcher pass without blinking an eye; they were used to it, it seemed. If anything, they got excited. A person getting carried out must be dead. And a dead man meant a free slot in the bed chamber.

Cars weren't being driven down the road as they would have done normally. We crossed the pavement without even having to look both ways. A lamp flickered on and off on the sidewalk next to the apartment we were wheeling off to. Ivan stopped near the door, knocked, and waited.

"What do ye want, punk?" The door swung open to reveal a woman in a long dress, her brown hair falling out of the braid she had put it in. She was beautiful, but I wasn't focused on her face. My attention was more drawn to the hunting rifle she was wielding at us.

"W-we had a patient and c-couldn't find him a p-place," Ivan stuttered. The barrel of the gun was poised just above his nose.

The woman, Shanna, I presumed, lowered her weapon upon finding out who her visitor was. "Och, 'tis just ye," she said roughly. Her dark brown eyes swept over Edward's body, which was lying against the thin cotton stretcher. His breathing was uneven and ragged.

"Well, come in. I'll take the young babe with me, seeing as our president isn't much of a help with finding a cure at the moment." Shanna stepped back to let us pass through. Ivan hesitantly went into the den of the lioness with the stretcher in front of him for protection, eyeing her shotgun warily.

Her house had a quaint, grandmother feeling. The wallpaper was a pink rose pattern with spring green vines creeping along the borders. China plates with farm scenes were hanging from the parlor wall, next to the great oak table. Lacy doilies were placed before each straight-backed chair. I heard a wind chime coming from someplace; maybe it was from the same place the frankincense was burning. The air was perfumed with it.

"I'll take him to the guest room. Get out of here before I blow your buttocks across my doorstep," she ordered, pointing sharply to the open door. The male nurse didn't wait to find out if she meant it; he took off like a bat out of hell.

Shanna shut the door quietly behind him. "Men," she muttered. "They haven't learned the fine art of shutting a door when they leave a woman." She turned back to Edward curiously. "Hey, kid," she said, her face dark. "Would ye ever leave a woman ye said ye loved?"

Edward let out a sickly groan.

She grunted. "Good enough, I guess." With her sleeves rolled up to reveal some serious muscles, she looked like that woman from the add for woman's assistance in World War two. She looked like a woman who could and would beat the hell out of any man who crossed her.

I felt sympathetic. She had obviously lost someone of the male persuasion; this was her way of dealing. Violence—for a short while, I'd gone through the same thing. I'd found a healthier way of dealing with it eventually, though, after Charlie wasn't too proud of the fights I got into.

She had struggled getting him up the stairs at first, but found out an easy way to get him to the guest bedroom eventually. The upstairs was similar to the downstairs style-wise, with a portrait of Shanna in a purple, high-collared dress, and a man in an army uniform standing rigidly next to her.

The olden air didn't let out even in the guest room. It was a soft blue room, with a window looking out to the hospital and the sprawling sea of white tents surrounding it. Shanna pushed Edward onto the bed gently and pulled up the covers to his chin. He cringed slightly.

"There ye go, lad. Wonder what ye're name is," she mused. She went back to the door, about to leave.

"Edward," he said weakly. Shanna turned around to see him opening his eyes slightly, his breathing still fast. "I'm Edward. . . ."

"I'm Shanna." She smiled the tiniest bit. "I'll get ye some soup. I have a feeling ye'll be here a while." The door clicked home as she shut it, and the dark tunnel returned again.

Ugh. I was beginning to get a little nauseated by the constantly changing scenery. My hand wound itself more around Edward's arm, my fingernails digging into his skin when the floor swayed from underneath me.

As the room washed out of focus, I felt lips at my ear. "Bella," Edward said softly, silkily. "Do you want to stop this yet?"

I shivered. His breath was hot against my skin. "No," I finally said when I regained my wits. "I want to see this to the end."

"Are you sure?" he insisted. The tunnel became darker.

"Yes. I want to see when you committed suicide, how come you did it and how my ancestor got a hold of Louis' necklace." I raised an eyebrow. "He's in France right now, right? This is America."

His eyes closed in that sad way of his. I wasn't sure if he was going to answer me when he spoke up in a small voice. "Yes. He's in France at this point in time." He didn't look me in the eyes when he continued, "Bella, this whole thing is starting to make me tired. I think that I might pass out if we keep this up. But since you want to go until the end, I'll try to remember a few other things."

I blinked. "Oh, I'm so sorry for making you go through with this! I should have just let you tell me straight out."

He shook his head and gave me a bitter smile. "No; I wanted to show you, even though I know it isn't right that I do it. I'm too selfish, I guess." He looked straight ahead, at the brightening area. He was ages away, thinking. "Selfish in life, selfish in death. Death doesn't change a man, does it?"

I knew that the question was rhetorical so I just leaned my head against his shoulder as we landed in the next memory.

Only a few things had changed. The sea breeze room looked more lived in, with a knitted sweater slumped against the arm of an old rocking chair. The window was open, and a nice breeze was caressing the sheer white curtains, making them look like sails. Edward's body was currently sleeping soundly in his bed. He looked much better—or at least better than he had been before. He looked only slightly ill, not panting sick.

Beyond the polished wooden door, a dull grandfather clock chimed. It sounded like it was downstairs; it was muffled and dusty.

I gave a big sniff to see if the incense was still present, burning in some unseen room. It was—but that was a good thing, really, because calming scents tend to make someone feel better anyway. And what's more calming then church incense?

"I wanted to stay here for a longer period of time; Shanna was very kind to me." Edward broke the peace with his voice, the heavenly timber of his that seemed so perfect to be in this peaceful room. His bright green eyes raked over me. "She read to me occasionally from a big book of verses that she had brought with her from Ireland when she had emigrated. Her husband was away fighting the war like Louis, and she was devastated to have lost him."

"Well, that would explain her portrait then. And her hatred of men, I suppose," I said.

He grimaced. "She didn't hate men, exactly. She just hated the way that her husband had cheated on her with her best friend before he left."

My mouth dropped. "What?"

"Yeah," he sighed, sitting on the edge of the mattress. It was weird seeing Edward lying in the bed as a human with angel Edward sitting next to himself. Like two twins placed together—one of them who was melting in the past, and the other sleeping soundly, unaware of the misfortune about to befall him in the near future. The slight difference between the two was more pronounced. Human Edward had a curious hardness about his face, while the angel had grief.

I heard hard footsteps coming up the stairs; someone was upset.

"She was always a tough cookie, though," he continued. "Always ready to change things. She was a protester, too, and I learned about woman's suffrage and being more ecologically friendly by her prattling on about it." He paused and looked down at his sleeping body thoughtfully. "I became attached to her as an overprotective sister. But just like everything good in my life, it was only a matter of time before things went terribly wrong."

As if on cue, Shanna came striding through the door, her face stringent. The peace had been broken, as she demonstrated by prodding the human Edward awake. She had passed straight through the angel Edward like he was a fog.

Edward opened his eyes and glared at her when he was sufficiently conscious. "What the hell, Shanna?" he grumbled sleepily.

"Sorry, Edward." I could detect her lofty Irish accent; it was faint, but still there. "I received news from that huge bloke down at the hospital. Ye're free to go back, since it turns out that it isn't _legal_ to drop sick citizens at a poor lass' house. I'm sure that ye're parents will be happy to have you back, right?"

Edward stiffened and looked down, his shoulders slumped. "Actually, while you were out, Ivan came back and told me something about them. They died yesterday, peacefully, according to him."

Shanna's face softened. She sat down on the bed, in the same place where Edward had just vacated. " Och, now. It'll be alright. I'll fix that crass son of bitch meself, if ye'd like." She scowled. "'Tis only the Lord Almighty that can change my mind about that man. He's an unfeeling character, to tell a wee babe like yeself that ye're parents have reached Heaven."

He smiled a little sadly. "That's fine, Shanna. Don't resort to violence; with your record at the police station, you'd never get away with assaulting a hospital attendant. After all, you can only pretend to be drunk for so long before they suspect anything."

She tapped a finger to his nose lightly. "Good show, lad. But unfortunately, that God forsaken urchin is forcing me to give you back," she huffed. "After three weeks, ye'd think that he'd realize that staying with me was a _good_ thing. A hella of a better then being stuck in that hospital."

He laughed softly. It reminded me of Louis' laughter. "Alright. I guess it can't be helped. But will you visit me sometime? I doubt that anyone's going to do that anytime soon."

She smiled warmly. "Sure. I'll visit as soon as I can."

Edward got up to his feet shakily with his arms bracing himself by gripping onto the bedposts. He was able to walk, although not very well. He hobbled over to the rocking chair and retrieved the sweater, wrapping it around his shoulders like a shawl.

"Er . . . lad? Can I ask ye something?"

"Yes?" He looked up.

Her face became guilty. "I was thinking about going into the war," she admitted.

He scrutinized her, waiting for the punch line. When he saw that there was none, he shook his head a little and rolled his eyes. "You're a woman. Women aren't allowed to fight."

Shanna stood to her feet; she was taller then Edward by about an inch or two. "I had been thinking of dressing as a man, actually. They won't be the wiser."

Edward raised an eyebrow. "I can think of two things that might lead them on to believe you're female." He pointed to her chest for emphasis.

Her face began to grow insanely red. She hit his arm lightly. "Ye're a cheeky lad, aren't you? Besides, I have ways of hiding my figure."

He opened the door and entered the hallway. "Why would you want to go into the war anyway?" He struggled to the stairway, becoming careful not to trip over stray objects. He grabbed the banister gingerly.

"Well, I was thinking of hunting down James," she explained, following his slow progress down the stairs.

"That bastard," Edward panted from the effort, "who left you?" He stopped to catch his breath on the last step.

"Yes, that's the verra one."

"He doesn't deserve you, Shanna," he told her. "You're too nice."

She shrugged. "I cannot help it, lad. I'm in love with the man. And when ye love someone verra much, ye have to learn to forgive them for past wrongdoings, no matter the price. Surely ye can understand that logic."

He paused, his back stiffened. His eyes were looking at the wall, not really seeing it. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I guess you can, can't you?" He started moving to the front door, wobbling only a fraction less than previously.

Shanna regarded him with concern. "Something the matter?"

"Yeah, I'm sick with the flu still." He put his hands on his knees to take a break and looked apologetically up at her. "Could you help me get out the door?"

"Of course."

And as I had come to expect, the tunnel came back. It was starting to annoy me, all this repetitive going-in going-out of a dark place only to have a giant time gap ranging from moths to weeks to even years. So I decided to tell Edward about my growing impatience.

"Hey, Edward?" I asked.

"Yeah?" He smiled down at me.

"I don't know about you, but this rapid change of scene and the darkness coming back and fading away is starting to bore me. Is this the last memory we'll see?" I begged. A little voice in the back of my head told me that I was being rude, but I didn't pay it any heed.

"Didn't I _just_ ask you if you were tired of this?" he demanded. But he was smiling, so I knew that he didn't mind so much.

"Yeah, but this is depleting your powers, too," I pointed out. "I don't know what could happen if we let you burn out your power."

He shrugged, the corner of his mouth tilted upwards. "Fine. I understand that this is a real pity party. This is the last memory you'll see before I break off."

"Good."

I watched the tunnel dissipate back to another white hospital room, similar to the one with Nancy and Ivan. But this room was thick with something terrible; it wasn't a stench or a certain smell, it was an overwhelming feeling. After a time, I recognized it as an emotion that I knew very well.

Hopelessness. Pure, lung-crushing hopelessness. Few people actually know what that emotion is; they say that it is simply an immense sadness. That is, by far, the farthest thing from the actual emotion. Imagine a concrete brick placed on your chest—it's hard to breathe, but you can still do it. _That_ is sadness. Now imagine eight times that weight placed on top of each other. That feeling is equivalent to hopelessness.

But even if you weren't someone who had felt that particular emotion, you could sense the coldness rolling off of someone who was. It was all a very complicated process, and strangely enough, it is in a human's nature to sense such intangible things.

Edward was obviously feeling it right now—I suppressed a horrified gasp when I saw him.

Shanna had certainly been right about him being in better care in her own house then in the hospital. His face was gaunter then ever; the rosy blush of his cheeks replaced with frozen milky white. His hair was all over the place, bed-head, I presumed. He was sweating again; a bead of it slipped down the side of his face. Under his eyes were deep, dark shadows with a red cast. I knew that he had been crying; I'd seen this memory before, but Edward had taken me out of his conscious before the memory could complete itself.

So this was it. This was the exact moment that Edward killed himself. How was he going to do it? Hang himself with an IV? I gazed around the stark hospital room curiously. That one was out; IVs hadn't existed back then, I guess.

There weren't any more beds in this particular room. It was claustrophobically small, with a lone window carved into the wall next to the bed. Caramel tinted blinds were drawn all the way upwards so that the bright sunlight could come in.

I saw him fumble with an eggshell colored envelope. He was really weak—he had to sit back onto the cot in order to stop the world from spinning. He haphazardly dropped the letter onto the tiny nightstand next to him, unfolding the parchment that it had held. A silver locket fell out of the letter and onto his lap.

"What does it say?" I hissed to the Edward who was leaning over himself to read the letter.

He cleared his throat and read over his double's shoulder. A stressful crease formed just above one of his eyebrows.

" '_Dear Ed—if you're reading this, it means that I've died for my country like any other respectable man would. I hope that Mother and Father are doing well; please be easy on them when you tell them, alright? After all, no man lives forever. It all comes down to what you did in your life earlier on, really. And I'm pleased to say that my life was fairly happy throughout it. _

_Yes, I'm even happy that I told you my secret. Even if I think that you went over-board with it, you deserved to know. Oh boy, oh boy; I can't believe that you actually kept it all those years! Hopefully you still kept it after I left, too. You're a swell little brother, Ed. You'll make some girl—or guy—very happy someday. _

_I want to give you my locket for safe keeping. If you ever need me while I'm in Heaven, just say the word and I'll be there for you. A familial bond can't be broken with a sufficient amount of love in the works, and I'm hoping that it won't be stopped even by death. _

_You might hate me still, but I moved on from it all. I don't hold a grudge against you for anything, and I hope that if you ever think of me it will be in a good way. That's how I always thought of you—the little boy with the shining eyes, my dear little brother. _

_You know, I went into the war in the first place to impress you, right? I didn't like the little boy I'd been so fond of growing into a bitter man and calling me names. But strangely, I feel as if by leaving the family to go, I proved that I loved you and our parents more then anything in the world, despite our indifferences._

_I died for love._

"_With you always, Louis_,' " Edward finished softly. He blinked and looked away from the page that his human body was still holding. He was suffering just by having to reread that.

Meanwhile, the Edward on the bed looked as if he was suffering reading it the _first_ time, let alone the second. He dropped the letter onto the crumpled linen sheet and stared out of the window, that blank look I had seen before sliding over him.

He looked almost exactly like Louis had when he had to leave.

He was trembling, too. It was as if he couldn't believe it, comprehend it, that his brother had died. Was he aware that it was partly his fault that he no longer had him? That he had urged that gentle man to his resting place? Apparently, he did.

Edward slid out of the low-rise bed and stood up, forcing himself to remain steady. A floor-length blanch hospital gown unfurled to his toes; it was slipping off of his shoulders, too, and I could see a very attractive looking neck. He put a hand up to his forehead and swayed dangerously; I was half-expecting him to fall back onto the cot. But he didn't. He dragged his bare feet across the linoleum, Louis' locket dangling down from his hand. It swayed back and forth, a pendulum on a delicate silver chain.

"Die for. . . ." He closed his eyes briefly, slowly. His hands reached for the window in a trance-like motion.

I gasped. "Stop it, Edward! Do you think that you're brother would honestly want you to pull a stunt like this? He died for you, and you're going to throw that away!" I attempted to grab him by the back of his nightgown; my fingers passed straight through him infuriatingly. Damn it. What a time to be transparent! I gritted my teeth in horrified anticipation as he opened the window.

Sunlight poured onto him. He looked ethereal, his pale skin luminous and his hair whipping around slightly in the breeze. His face was set—it was still slightly flushed from the raging fever he had, and it was dampened with sweat. But there was finality in his gaze that sealed the deal. He wasn't reconsidering it at all.

I felt tears start to form in my eyes. The boy I'd loved was about to kill himself. And there was nothing I could do to stop it; I could only watch. I felt so helpless right now.

Arms enveloped me around the waist smoothly. Edward pressed me against his chest, his hand against the back of my head, holding my face towards him in a way to shield me. But both of us watched on as the bronze haired boy slid out of the window and onto a short ledge. The wind made the bed gown seem almost like a holy robe, the type that the condemned always wore before they were killed. It flapped wildly as the wind started to pick up.

In the distance I could hear the tinkling of wind chimes, presumably coming from Shanna's house. There was also the occasional honking of car horns. I could even smell the frankincense in the air if I observed closely enough. But my eyes were only for the teenager outstretching his arms as if preparing for flight. A shard of sunlight bounced off of the locket, glinting friendly.

"Sorry, Louis," we heard him whisper to himself. "You died for me; it's only fair that I die for you. It's time that I died for love like a real man would, just like you did." His fist clenched around the necklace, and he drew in a shuddering breath. "I love you, too."

He took a step over the edge, and plunged over the side of the hospital, his arms still out wide. And for that awful second, time stood still to watch along with us. The street noises froze to silence, the wind chimes stopped tinkering. Even the wind ceased. It seemed like every living and nonliving thing watched as the angelic boy fell from the skies. But there was no truck to save him this time. Just concrete.

I buried my face into Edward's shirt, wrapping my arms tightly around his torso. I couldn't bare this any longer.

The agonizing quiet ended. The street abruptly burst into an uproar—I heard people screaming that a man had just fallen from the building. I heard people demanding that no one go near to the body; but another person argued that it was impossible to not go near it. There was too much blood, too many pieces.

A queasy feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. I was going to hurl if we didn't depart from this ghastly memory.

"Edward," I mumbled to his chest. He smelled good and warm, so filled with life. "Let's go."

His hand rubbed my back tenderly. "Yes," he assured me. "Close your eyes; it'll only take a second."

I did what I was told for a change and gripped the back of his T-shirt. It felt good to actually be able to touch him now, to be able to tell him things. Compared to what it had been like to watch my hand go straight through his skin altogether, cuddled against him like this was my own personal utopia.

It didn't take too long for the tunnel to return and finally truly dissipate. When I felt that it was time to open my eyes again, I was back in my dark bedroom, lying on my comforter with my forehead against Edward's. His eyes were still closed, and his breathing was slow and hypnotic. The alarm clock ticked by in the darkness; we'd been popping through his memories for about two hours. And yet, judging on the appearance of my room, it was as if nothing had happened at all—like it was all a bad dream that I had woken up from.

Edward's eyes snapped open. The vivid green coloring startled me for a second, due to how close we were, but my temporary breathlessness went away when he sat up. He rubbed his shoulder with one of his hands, the one that I had just seen carrying a locket.

"Ugh," he groaned, continuing to massage himself. "That was exhausting. I'm never doing that again. I don't care how much you beg, I'm _never_ doing that again."

I sat up, too. "You alright?" I asked.

He nodded and yawned, his hand dropping to his side. "I'm just sleepy. I really need to learn some self-control when it comes to magic, don't I?"

"Yes, you really _do_ need to," I admitted. And with that having been said, I took him by his shoulders and leaned onto my mattress, dragging him with me. He was taken aback by my straightforwardness, but was too tired to argue against it. I threw my arms around him protectively, possessively, and rested my chin on the top of his head. "Go to sleep if you're sleepy," I ordered him.

"I think I will, actually." I could practically hear the smile in his voice. His arms winded around me again, squeezing me against him. Through the fabric between us, I could feel his heart pounding. I placed a rhythm to it; the ticking of the clock and the beating of his heart made a strange lullaby. But I could deal with it because I was with Edward.

"I have a question," I murmured in the stillness of the room.

"Yes?" His voice was wispy, doused with extreme drowsiness. He snuggled against my body some more.

"Who got the locket? I wasn't able to see anything . . . after. . . ." I trailed off, unable to finish.

"Hmm? The locket?" he asked. "Shanna got it; she remarried to a person named Connor almost immediately after attaining it when I died. Weird, right? It was almost like a guardian angel was watching her and gave her a gift." He laughed softly. Suspiciously.

A jolt of realization sprang up. "You made her find true love?"

I felt him shrug against me. "It was the least I could do; I'd been studying in my Love Potions class enough to know the magic that can make people find the right direction to their soul mate. Simple stuff; it's all in the hands of the person who the spell I cast upon, though. It depends on whether or not they can recognize the signs that it's a calling. Shanna did, and now she's your ancestor."

"That's a sweet thing to do for someone," I complimented.

He didn't answer.

I looked down and saw his long, black eyelashes grazing against his alabaster cheeks. His breath was hot against the nape of my neck as he slumbered. Smiling despite myself, I placed my chin on the top of his head again.

"Do you think that you came here to me because we were soul mates?" I asked him softly so he wouldn't hear. When no answer came back apart from his peaceful breathing, I closed my eyes and tried to get some sleep for myself. It was Halloween tomorrow, and I didn't want to let it start off with an overslept morning due to sleep deprivation.

As my consciousness slipped, I thought I heard him whisper a word.

"Yes."

-

-

-

-

**(A/N Back again, with another, more longer chapter. It was pretty hectic creating this monster chapter—I thought that it would NEVER end. Sorry for the long wait.**

**I've got an explanation for me asking for flames that last chapter back; it was all a ruse for a contest, really. I'm planning on giving the winner of the flames recognition at the end of the story. (Best Flamer, Best Creative Review, Funniest Review, ect.) And besides that, it was also a contest to see what side of you was more prominent. The demonic side, or the angelic side? I'm happy to say that most of you were half and half, and I proclaim you to be human. ;) There were quite a few angels, and definitely a few demons. **

**For this chapter, I won't demand any flames. You can just review the way you want to. XD)**


	18. Halloween

When I woke up that morning, it was still a blue-black cold outside my frosted window. Fog was as thick as the clouds around the house; it was as if we were lost amongst a land of white gas instead of oxygen.

But I could care less about the weather outside, no matter how frightful that might be on this Halloween morning. I was happier to have Edward's arms holding me tight.

He was still sleeping soundly beside my body, his soft snoring giving him away. His hair, as usual, was sticking up all over the place, including my face. A strand of it was tickling my nose, just begging for disaster. And, of course, disaster answered that call.

Inevitably, I sneezed. I turned my head before Edward could get hit, though; that could have been a disaster. I snuffled a little and wormed my way out of his arms so I could get dressed.

He stirred when I moved away from him, which is only to be expected, really. The poor guy had just been nearly sneezed on, so he had a right to scoot over. Still, I felt a little colder without the body heat there.

I rolled out of my bed and dug through my dresser as quietly as I could. I came up with a simple black dress and ripped up tights—not the most Halloween spirited outfit out there, but it would work for me. After sneaking off to the bathroom to put on my outfit for the day, I clipped a bat shaped hair pin onto the side of my hair for a little pizzazz and even included a swirl design under each of my eyes. When I was done, I frowned at myself in the mirror. I'd have to get something from the store later on so I didn't look too odd.

I trumped over to the kitchen sleepily, ready to fix myself a bowl of Pops. Remarkably, Edward was already dressed and ready, drinking a glass of chocolate milk to kick start his day. He smiled at me when I retrieved the box of cereal. "Morning, Bella."

"You're up early," I noted. My voice sounded noticeably tired, dragged out. "I could have sworn that I left you asleep when I went off to get dressed."

His smile widened. "I'm a fast dresser. And you woke me up when you moved." He smoothed his black pants out so that the white buckles and straps attached to it would be more prominent. Very nice funeral buckle pants; I wanted them for myself. He stood up, letting his glass go into the sink, before looking out the window thoughtfully and quietly.

I sat down at the table and brought the spoon of Pops to my lips. "It's Halloween today," I reminded him with a mouthful of cereal. "What do you want to do?"

He kept staring out the window. "Um . . . go to school? We have school today, don't we?"

"Yeah, but on holidays they don't really teach much of anything. Teachers have a tendency to lay back on holidays and review things that are really old. It's nothing special." I returned to my cereal and picked up another spoonful.

"Considering the fact that you skip school consistently, I have to insist that you go today." He didn't turn to me, just kept gazing out at the fog. "Especially since it is a review day. You need to pass Highschool, after all."

I scowled at his back. "Why should I? I try not to go to school too much so I don't get beaten up. My reasons are completely sound. And I'm smart enough to pass the final exams. Before you came, I studied _a lot_. It's just that I haven't found much time to keep up my habits. I have an angel to look out for, remember?"

He crossed his arms, leaning onto the counter a little. His green eyes studied the glass of the window even harder. "What about your job? You never seem to go to it. Perhaps you don't have one? You'd have to have one to pay for the house bills and the groceries, right?"

I shrugged, knowing he couldn't see it. "My manager calls me in when they need me. It's only a part time job." I winced slightly. "Although, I'm not exactly thrilled with the place I got saddled up with. But no other place will hire me."

"You don't like your job?" Edward asked curiously. He swiveled around to face me, a perplexed expression on his stunningly beautiful face. "Why wouldn't you like it? Didn't you choose it?"

I chewed on some more cereal slowly, wondering how to explain this without seeming like an idiot. Upon exploring all the other options, I realized there was no way _but_ to sound like a total dolt. I swallowed. "I got the job before I met the people I have to work with. But when I actually found out what the people were like, I instantly regretted getting a job there at all."

He pinched the bridge of his nose slightly. "Don't tell me; Mike works there, doesn't he?"

I nodded, eating more Pops. "Yeah, he does. But for some reason he wasn't as bad as he was now. He was still pretty obnoxious to me for no apparent reason apart from my style, but it didn't get overly violent until you came."

He stiffened.

"I mean, I don't know why he'd switch so drastically after you came here, but for some reason I just never really noticed. I'd been preparing for something like that to happen, and when it did, it just seemed inevitable." I rested the side of my head against one hand. "I wonder why?"

Edward turned back to the window. I could see his reflection from the frosted glass; it was stony and slightly angry. "I have a theory why he might have reacted the way he had. But I hope to God that it isn't true."

My eyes widened. I stood up from my chair. "What? Just tell it to me straight. I can handle it."

His lips tightened into a line as he thought, and his eyes narrowed as he stared outside. "I think that the demon possessing him," he said slowly, "knew I was from a celestial place and knew what I was the second I allowed my presence to be known to it. That would be at the mall, when Mike and his friends came up to us."

I sucked in a deep breath of air and let it out in a sigh. "Geez. That seems so long ago now, but it was only about a week or so ago. There were just so many things that happened since then that it didn't register in my mind that it could be of any importance."

Edward scratched his chin softly. "Hmm. I don't blame you. What with a confrontation with a demon and a murder you witnessed, I really can't say that you're at fault for not remembering. The event seems so minuscule in comparison to the rest."

I joined in with looking out of the window. The mist swirled around and slipped through the pine branches. A thin layer of water droplets covered my car and the porch, making it sparkle from the light coming from the kitchen. "So why doesn't he like you?"

"I believe it is partly because the demon inside him doesn't mix well with angels. And I also believe that it could have something to do with Mike's own feelings that is causing him to give himself over to the demon."

"His feelings?" I asked incredulously.

Edward's eyes darted over to mine and the corner of his mouth turned upwards. "Women aren't the only ones who get dangerously angry when jealous."

"Jealous?" I repeated. I felt like a parrot, so I quickly added, "But why would he feel jealous? He hates me."

He laughed quietly. "Don't you know that when little kids like someone, they have a knack of getting meaner to cover up their attraction? I think that's what happened. Mike has a crush on you but was ashamed to have fallen for the outcast. So he covered it up by being mean. That way, he'd get your attention but not get made fun of himself."

I gritted my teeth. "He's an idiot if that's the case. You can't woo a woman by calling her a freak, now can you?" I waved my hand in a gesture to indicate I was making a point.

He grabbed it in midair and held it close to his face. Looking up at me from beneath his eyelashes, his warm emerald gaze smoldered. My blood rushed into liquid fire beneath my skin. His lips gently touched the skin of my hand, and I officially lost control of my heart beats. They sped up, slowed down and even stung my chest. He pulled away too soon. "Is _that_ how you woo a woman, then?"

That was an understatement. I took a deep breath. "It's a good start," I said shakily. I moved from him to give him some space. I turned my back on him to look out the window, mimicking what he had done.

My face was burning up; and it was just because he kissed me hand, too. Not even the lips. Was that a good sign or a bad one? My fingertips traced the back of hand delicately where he had kissed me. It tingled.

Last night's conversation started to replay itself. _Soul mates._

"You okay, Bella?" His voice sounded bemused. "You reacted like I bit you."

I rubbed the back of my hand and laughed nervously. "Nah, just kinda out of it today, I guess."

He walked off to the next room. "Alright then," he called over his shoulder. "I'll just get my stuff and we can go to school."

Ugh. School—that topic again. He just wasn't getting my point about how it wasn't needed today. Rolling my eyes in exasperation, I followed him into the den. He was picking up an old binder that I had stuffed in a box somewhere and searching for a pencil diligently.

"Come on," I ordered. He looked up. "We're going."

"Can you give me some time to find the rest of my books? I'm searching for—"

I shook my head and he stopped talking. "We're not going to school. We're going to the mall today to get some Halloween costumes."

Edward glared at me in disapproval.

"What?" I asked innocently. "It's Halloween!"

He grunted acerbically and threw his binder onto the couch. "Your father is not going to be very proud of you when you fail school."

"Oh, let me deal with him by myself," I said. "I can pass the year. Now let's get in the car; we need to beat all those late shoppers." Without waiting for a response, since I knew he would argue, I turned on my heel and grabbed my keys and purse near the front door.

I couldn't escape from his annoyed rambling, though. As I pulled on a warm coat, he continued. "You like shopping too much," he mumbled from the next room. "Honestly. It seems like we're frequenting the mall. Why can't we just stay home?" he whined when he returned to the kitchen. "It's foggy outside. It's cold."

I opened the door for him. "Come on, stop being a pest."

When he trooped past me—giving me a very bitter look on his way—I shut and locked the front door behind us, shivering from the damp air. He hadn't been exaggerating when he said it would be cold. But there were things to be done, and I couldn't just ignore them. I had to buy pumpkins, candy, horror movies, costumes. . . . I was simply unprepared for today.

Resolution being set, I tried to find my car through the thick mist. When I heard Edward close by, his figure faint but still there, I knew where the truck was and ran to the driver's seat, not wanting to stay in the cold a minute longer.

Edward sat next to me, not even attempting to stop sulking. He glared out the windshield and crossed his arms as I turned the key in the ignition. My truck roared to life, but that didn't even faze him; he just kept scowling.

The drive to the mall took less then I had anticipated it would have. We'd been replaying an old Blue October CD that I had found in the glove compartment, and we breezed through the journey without any unpleasant things occurring. Edward even loosened up about ditching school and joked around with me until I seriously needed to pay attention to the road.

About ten minutes before we got there, I was able to catch him singing along under his breath with the music. It was a sweet and low voice. I had to strain to catch it all, but it was worth it. Intoxicatingly otherworldly, charming me into ignoring the song itself and just listening to Edward. When the song had faded away, he closed his eyes and sighed, laying his head against the headrest.

"You're a good singer," I observed. He opened one eye slightly, not stirring otherwise. "But you were singing too low—next time you sing, I want to hear you clearly."

"Why?"

I adjusted my grip on the steering wheel. The mist was slipping away, but the rain was coming back to Forks. I turned on my windshield wipers when I saw the drops forming. "Because you sound great. Can you play piano any better then when you were younger?"

He turned his head away to look out the opposite window, his eyes distant. "Yeah, I guess."

"I think we have a piano in the basement, under crates of old stuff that we keep around to put up for Christmas. Maybe we should go down there and see what you can do. You wanted to go down there anyway. There's also an ancient acoustic guitar in the closet, but it hasn't been used since—" I stopped talking, my shoulders becoming stiff. A little lamely, I mumbled, "since my mother left."

It didn't hurt to mention her now. Not as much as it used to, anyway. There wasn't some omnipresent pressure pounding into my chest anymore—it had mellowed out to a twinge; painful, but not unendurable. I strongly suspected that it was Edward's arrival that had made me so tolerant. Maybe I could go on with the rest of my life now. Smiling to myself, I relaxed into my seat.

But if I didn't feel the pain, would I forget my mom all together? Suddenly, getting healed didn't sound so good. It seemed almost wrong for me to have a good time and not feel anything about my mother's death. By distancing myself from the rest of the population, I had more time on my hands to think about her like she rightfully deserved. I turned into the next bend in the road, my smile slipping away.

"A piano is in the basement?" Edward asked. He looked cheered up. "I had a feeling that there was one."

"How could you have had a feeling there was a piano in my basement?" I asked incredulously.

"Because Shanna had a piano in one of the rooms; she loved it too much to give it away, and would be vexed if one of her descendants got rid of it."

I pulled into the nearly vacant parking lot. "So you think that the piano in my basement is Shanna's, my ancestor?" I raised my eyebrows high and glanced at him as I slid into a parking space.

He shrugged. "It's logical to believe so, yes." He unbuckled his seatbelt and waited until I was out of the car before getting out himself. I had to walk around to his side and offer him my old umbrella before he accompanied me inside.

There were lights streaming out onto the wet pavement, a beacon signal. It would be warm in there, which was a fact that urged us to run faster. Stomping through the rain without getting super wet was an impossible feat, but we managed the best we could. My legs were freezing, though—the stockings did very little to protect me from the uncaring weather.

Edward grabbed my hand when we got inside. "Geez. Things changed around here a little," he muttered.

They certainly had. There was an inflatable spider hanging from the ceiling, grimacing down at us with plushy-looking fangs and cartoon-like eyes. The poor thing looked as if it was saying "shoot me and take me out of my misery."

There were fake, cotton webs in corners and on the plastic plants. A giant sign with a corny saying was outside the window of one shop, with a grinning pumpkin face accompanying it. But what brought the most attention was the gigantic pumpkin in the middle of the entrance. There was a banner draped around it, informing us that the Great Pumpkin would be taking our Halloween wishes now. A total knock-off from the Santa Claus idea. I wouldn't be half surprised if we found an Enchanted Farmer speaking from the mouth of the Great Pumpkin.

"This is the part about Halloween I don't care for," I said darkly, gesturing at the monstrosity as we passed by. "The shameless commercialism of companies who want to profit off of traditions; it's insulting."

"Hmmm." His eyebrows knit together. "I'd still like to know more about the history of Halloween. We didn't really celebrate it back in Chicago. But that was about a century ago—I'd like to think that the people in Chicago are more into it by now."

"They probably are. But I'm not really sure; people in France don't celebrate it like us."

He put his hands in his pockets. "Hmmm," he said again.

I searched for the escalator when we turned a corner. "And besides, if you're really curious, there's a Borders around here somewhere. We can get a book on the subject."

He seemed pleased by the suggestion. "Alright, sure. I need something to pass the time with, anyway."

I spotted the escalator and grabbed his hand to drag him with me to ride it. "We just need to get costumes first," I sighed. "I wish that I kept my last costumes, but Charlie made me get rid of them. He said we had plenty of time to buy a new one later; and that I'd get over trick-or-treating when I was old enough." I grinned at Edward. "Hasn't happened yet."

He wasn't paying close attention. "There aren't as much people here as there were last time," he observed, staring down at the clean-swept linoleum floors as we scaled upwards.

"That's because most of the mall-going population were teenagers. There are only a few adults here, too—probably at work," I surmised. "But that also means that the shops won't be as crowded. Not that they were to begin with. Forks only got this mall last year."

He frowned, stepping off the escalator when we hit the top. I followed. "Now I feel even _worse_ about skipping," Edward sighed. He sped up subconsciously, not noticing that he was faster then me.

I huffed as I attempted to match his speed. "Don't be."

He shot me a heated glare. "This is going to bite me in the ass, I just know it."

"Humph. Stop being a worrywart." I rolled my eyes and then looked around for a promising store to visit. Not much variety around here—I was pretty much limited to the children's costumes in a nearby stand that was guarded by a man with a walrus mustache, or to an old-fashioned store that had a prudish-looking, pinched face guy who floated in between the aisles of clothes. He had the air of a priest or a monk protecting his church.

"Let's browse through this one," Edward suggested, walking over to Priest Man's store. He smiled at me and beckoned me over, unaware of the disturbed clerk who was peering suspiciously out at him from behind the feathered plume of a dramatic maroon hat.

"Erm . . . I don't think that we're very wanted," I said hesitantly. Priest Man's squinty eyes swiveled to me, scrutinizing every detail of my form he could squeeze out. Probably so he could give the police a detailed report if we tried to rob him.

I bit the inside of my cheek. "Never mind," I growled. I narrowed my eyes at Priest Man. I simply detested people who felt the need to stare so blatantly, and to continue when they were caught. It was best to confront him and get it over with.

With a new—much angrier—determination fueling me forward, I brushed past Edward briskly and marched into the store. I was pretty sure he followed, but I was focusing on meeting up with Priest Man; I might as well have had blinders on to anything else.

Priest Man straightened and tried to pass off as an innocent clerk who had been rearranging the vintage shirts. But he stiffened up when I stopped directly in front of him.

"_Bella, what are you doing?_" Edward hissed from the open doors.

"Hey," I said with a smile to Priest Man. I imagined myself kicking him really hard, and that was an immediate mood lifter.

He jumped, looking up guiltily. "Yes, miss? Can I help you with something?"

My smile deepened. "Sure. I was wondering if you liked my dress." I struck a pose with my arm over my head and the other gripping my waist.

Both Edward and the Priest Man—who was named Carter, according to his nametag—were taken aback by this approach. Carter scrutinized me in shock. "Uh . . . sure."

"So that's why you couldn't help but stare at us when we were outside?" My smile fell into a scowl as fast as a rock falls to the bottom of a pond. "My beauty just stuns you, doesn't it?" I asked, my tone dangerous.

Carter looked uncomfortable. His watery little eyes darted nervously from me—or rather, the space just over my shoulder—to an immaculately stacked arrangement of gray slack pants and the dusty tiles near his polished loafers. "Sure," he mumbled.

"That's what I thought." I glanced over at Edward, who was pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, and realized that while I was still here I could ask to see the merchandise. "But I wanted to know if you had anything . . . whimsical? Halloween-like?" I crossed my arms and cocked my head to the side, daring him to say no.

The clerk sprang into life. His wrinkled face became much more animated and friendly towards his potential customer. "Actually, we do. Just ordered some new Renaissance outfits for the fair that's coming up in three months. You know?"

I shook my head. "No, I didn't know there was a Renaissance fair."

"Oh. "His shoulders fell a little. "Well, no matter. This way, please." He pushed past me roughly and slithered around a huge rack of old lady clothes.

Edward appeared by my side and caught me off guard. I had to step back to calm down my heart after his strong hand came down on my shoulder. "Geez," I said. "Stop sneaking up on me."

He didn't look very amused. His eyes tightened fractionally, and his jaw was more defined. He looked like he was ready to bite me. Abruptly, he turned to follow Carter to where he had run off to, leaving me behind, dazed and confused.

Had I said something that offended him? I wondered what I could have possibly done as I trailed along behind the two men through the sea of olden and musty smelling clothes. Perhaps he was still uptight about playing hooky today. I frowned at his back. Couldn't he learn to just go with the flow and have fun for a while? One day off from education couldn't kill either one of us. Hell, I deserved an early summer vacation, what with the demon slayings and crap I had to put up with lately.

"Come on in the storage room," Carter ordered us. "That's where the merchandise is stashed. I don't want young hooligans coming into my shop and disrupting the peace by taking off with my medieval goods." He stood back with one arm up against the door to let us in a dark room.

When Edward and I filed into it willingly, Carter reached up with spindly fingers to catch the swinging string attached to the ceiling. A dim light allowed just enough luminous help to get by on. It was a rounded room, with adobe walls that had beige paint peeling in some places. Cobwebs formed in the black metal framework that wasn't blocked by depleting cardboard boxes. A few metal hangers were scattered on the floor in a haphazard pile, and broken clothes racks waited to be mended on another side of the room. It was cold and tightly spaced, but at least I was with Edward. A little apprehensively, I gravitated towards him and slid my arm through his. He pulled me closer, his face set and protective.

Carter couldn't possibly be a demon, could he? He looked way to weak to be much of a challenge even if he was. But still, I didn't like this place. And I especially didn't like the way Edward was behaving. I felt a burst of adrenaline cause my heart to speed up faster. I watched as the potential spawn of Satan dug around in a cardboard box resting in front of us.

He whipped out a gown of some sort. "Here we are!" he announced proudly.

Relieved, I let out a deep whoosh of air I had been holding in. I hadn't even noticed that I'd been holding my breath.

Carter fluffed out a light blue cloth fondly. "This one is the cheapest one here. It also happens to be my personal favorite." He eyed me curiously, the bags under his eyes darkening only slightly more then before. "It looks like your size, and I don't know if I'll be able to sell it to anyone else sometime soon. You see, my shop is getting closed down soon, God bless it." He blinked back tears and touched the silver cross necklace around his neck briefly.

But then he snapped back into business. Very professionally, he presented the watery blue fabric to me, not holding back on the pompous flourish in the process of doing so.

It was a stunning velvet gown, the color of a robin's egg. Slimmer then most medieval dresses were, it had white lace trimming just above the bottom. A white cord wrapped around the midsection and was tied in the front, matching the long-sleeved eggshell colored dress underneath the gown itself. It was similar to Belle's attire from Beauty and the Beast, except longer, more authentic and old-aged.

"This is a basic sleeveless surcoat with two rows of eyelet lace at the bottom," informed Carter. "It has regular sized armholes, unlike many other knock-off imitations that so many people are buying. The scoop neckline looks fantastic with any petticoats or chemise you want to put on for a little more flair. I'd say it looks similar to a peasant's outfit in the older era, or perhaps a bar wench who was casually dressed for her work day." Carter babbled on a little more about the Middle Ages and how the term 'wench' went from meaning 'a servant girl' to 'a prostitute who works at bars.' He let me take the dress from his hands to inspect it.

It felt floaty in my fingers, slipping through them and gliding against my skin. I liked it—I liked soft things in general, really. But there was something about this outfit that made me think that it would look great on me. It looked as if it would cling to all the right places and break a few hearts. I inwardly snickered at the last thought. It figures that I'd probably be more desirable in a Halloween costume then in my normal attire.

"You like it?" the clerk asked eagerly. "It's on sale. Only about sixty dollars, as opposed to the two hundred you'd have to pay if you'd bought it any other place. It's the closest to the original you can ever get."

I glanced back down at the dress, grimacing. Sixty dollars out of my wallet. I was pretty sure that I would still have enough money for food, but what would I do about Edward's needs? He needed a costume and that book he wanted. Was it selfish of me to buy this if it meant we'd have to probably sacrifice one of his things?

I looked at Edward almost beseechingly.

"It would look great on you," he assured me. "Go ahead. Buy it." He shrugged.

A rush of excitement brought a grin to my face. "Alright!" I turned to Carter, who was watching us carefully. "I'd like to buy this, please."

He smiled, exposing perfectly straight teeth. They were long like a horse's, though. "Alright, miss. This way. The young gentleman can browse by himself." Carter exited the storage room, expecting me to follow him.

I looked back at Edward again. He was observing some clothes in the box, raising his eyebrow at some of the things in there. He noticed I was still there and looked up. "Bella?"

"Uh," I said, feeling irrationally awkward. "Do you need money to buy it? I can give you the left over money in my purse, if you'd—"

"No, I have my own money. Well, technically it's yours." He smiled guiltily. "There was some left over from the last time."

I was pleasantly shocked. "Oh. Well, alright then. Although I'm sure you were planning on returning the change of the money I lent you _eventually_, right?" I crossed my arms and tried to look stern.

He smiled lazily. "Yeah. But with your luck, you'd lose it."

"I'll only lose it if my guardian angel overspends," I grumbled. "I'm not that clumsy."

He scoffed. "Are you kidding?"

"Such a nice angel I had to end up with," I said sarcastically. "One that constantly has to have a go at my insecurities. Do you enjoy doing this to my self-esteem?"

He laughed and returned to the box of costumes. Without looking at me, he continued to smile. "Better go and pay for your costume. He's getting antsy waiting for you." His voice seemed a bit annoyed.

"Well, okay then. Call me if you need anything." I turned around, feeling unhappy that he was acting so weird. Something was definitely up, but what could it have been?

* * *

After we had bought our costumes, (Edward had chosen to hide his from me to keep it a surprise) we went to the nearest bookstore in the building. It was a fairly new addition and had a small selection of books to choose from, but Edward had insisted that we find that book he needed. He seemed unusually dedicated to the cause.

Eventually, he obtained a glossy covered novel that had a pair of yellow eyes glaring out from the front. It looked really cool, in a daunting way. Edward seemed to be happy with it—he held both his costume bag and the book by himself, seeming to want to keep them away from my prying eyes.

I couldn't help but shake the idea that something was wrong. All while we were walking down the halls, the mall gradually filling with more people as the hours passed by, he just seemed to be nodding at what I was randomly talking about. Whether or not it was about what he wanted for dinner tonight, what we should do about the dance that was at our school later on, or even if he wanted to buy a CD he could listen to in the car, Edward just seemed detached and unfocused. I knew he was a deep thinker, but this was getting ridiculous.

"So . . . what are you thinking?" I asked. I looked at him from the corner of my eye. He wasn't really paying attention, just like I knew he wasn't. He was just observing his feet move, putting one foot in front of another carefully.

"Nothing," he said distractedly.

I wasn't buying it. "As if. Edward, I know something's up. What's wrong?" I demanded.

He shook his head, shrugging. "Nothing is."

"Come on, stop denying it. You suck at lying."

He gritted his teeth, giving me a pissed look. "I'm _not_ lying. Nothing's going on. I just want some quiet. I want to _think_."

Taken by surprise by his suddenly hostile face, I tried not to let my expression show how much it hurt for him to snap out at me. "Sorry for caring," I said mostly to myself.

Edward wasn't paying attention again.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Are you done in there yet?" I yelled, banging on the bathroom door with a closed fist. He'd been hogging it since we got back to the house. I was starting to believe that he was slowly turning into a teenage girl like me.

"Just wait a second!" he called back. He sounded like he was struggling with something.

I groaned. "You said that an hour ago!"

"This time I mean it."

Grumbling, I leaned against the wall opposite the bathroom door, waiting for his appearance. I was half-considering leaving without him. He had wings, after all.

"Alright," he said. The door knob turned. "I'm ready to go now."

He still hadn't shown me his costume yet, and I was curious what it looked like. So I was anxious to finally see it on him. He opened the door, and I stood a little straighter, ready to finally see it.

He had an ankle-long trench coat buttoned completely up, making him look similar to a detective. The only thing that looked even vaguely like a costume was the wings protruding from his back. He had combed his hair so that it was tamed down a notch, not as messy or all over the place like it was on a regular basis.

My shoulders slumped. "Geez, that's it? I was expecting something more flashy," I admitted, let down.

He had a secretive smile. "Maybe it is. The bathroom's open." He walked past me to the living room, and I heard a television turn on.

I shut the door behind me when I got inside and stripped down as fast as I could. The dress slipped on smoothly, fitting my body in all the right places. I could feel the end of the fabric grazing the tops of my feet and tightened the cord to fit my waist correctly. I wiped off my dark make up and tried to find something light blue in the makeup shelf. I had absolutely nothing light and innocent.

My eyes fell on something in a corner of the medicine cabinet and my heart felt a sudden, unexpected twinge of pain. My mom's makeup was still there in its place, a film of dust covering them delicately. I'd been afraid to touch it since she . . . left. I felt that by touching her stuff, her death might seem even more permanent then it already was. My hand pulled back slightly, and I bit my lip.

My mother loved the color blue. She wore blue eye shadow in varying shades as often as she could. Whenever I remembered her, she always had a bluish aura. Blue was my mom's color, her signature. She was always beautiful in it.

I thought about Edward, and the way he said he liked the color blue.

Briefly, I closed my eyes. And then I grabbed the makeup.

* * *

I waited until I was absolutely comfortable before stepping anywhere out of the bathroom. After some heavy breathing (the change between my normal self and the new, costumed me was really hard to get used to) and some mental encouragement, I was ready to face Edward again.

But I couldn't help but hesitate just before going into the living room. I really hoped he thought I was pretty. I had even worn the cross he had given me—I had washed it, not really wanting to remember the blood it had been covered in when I stabbed Lauren—so that I'd grab some of his attention.

"Erm . . . Edward?" I asked nervously. The TV turned off.

"Yeah?" His voice seemed curious.

"Don't freak out, okay? I'm going to show you my costume now."

There was a pause. "Alright," he said, puzzled.

Bracing myself, I forced my feet to move forward a few inches. My heart was thrashing inside of my chest terribly. Oh God, this was such a stupid idea. It wasn't too late to turn around and say I wasn't ready after all. I felt so out of place in this outfit, so much plainer and light. It had been such a long time since I had worn something like this, I was afraid I wouldn't know how to react to my surroundings anymore. But still . . . I thought about what Edward would say. He'd give me moral support as my friend if there was a need for it. I wouldn't get too hurt. I repeated this to myself mentally a few times and pushed my body into view. My eyes closed, irrationally afraid of what he might say. _This was it._

He didn't say anything.

Hesitantly, I opened my eyes. My fingernails were digging into the skin of my palm.

Edward was staring at me, his intense green eyes wide and rimmed with his long black eyelashes. His wings were fluffing up a little. I watched as he soaked in my image with a stunned face. My cheeks were burning, I could feel it. And my heartbeats were becoming such a problem that I could feel my knees quaking underneath the dress. That look in his eyes—a partly hungry, awed expression—wasn't helping my nerves either. I felt excited, nervous and flushed. Not a good combination.

His lips parted ever so slightly. I saw the tip of his tongue run over them. "Wow, Bella," he breathed, his warm bottle green gaze resting on my face. I felt happy when I looked at him; when he looked at me I felt like I was resting in a sun warmed meadow. "You look beautiful." Still looking at me, he stood up and put his book on the coffee table.

I heard myself laugh nervously. "Thanks, Edward. It feels really weird for me to be in this, though, so I'll need some extra support tonight."

That crooked smile I liked so much lit up his face. His eyes smoldered. "No problem. I can help you with that."

I felt a surge of hope he meant something other then just moral support. Instead of saying so, I just let my eyes flick over to a random corner of the room, unable to stand meeting his eyes without having a blood pumping reaction.

"So . . . we should leave right now," he announced, sighing. I decided to risk it and look back over at him. He was busy trying to settle down the feathers in his wings, patting and stroking them gently until they looked just about as normal as seven feet tall wings could be.

"Yeah, we should." I glided over to the coat rack and selected an older style similar to a pirate's coat. It was nice and dark in color, so I felt a little better wearing it. More at home. I put on a smile, trying to see if my subdued pink lipstick would look natural on my face. "Come on. Let's get in the car."

As he walked past me, he stopped. He seemed to be observing me a little harder then usual. "Bella?"

"Yeah?"

He cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. His eyes traveled to his feet. "I really think I might love. . . ." He stopped, unsure.

My heart spluttered erratically. "You think you might love what?" _Please say you love me._ _Please tell me that someone loved me._

"I love. . . ." His voice was a whisper. His face was slowly turning rosy. His eyes returned to mine, and an electric spark burned between us. He could feel it too, and I could tell; he was leaning towards me without seeming to realize it. But of course, he stopped himself in the nick of time, when out lips were just a whisper apart. Turning to the door and opening it, he walked outside onto the porch. "I love the color blue on you," he called over his shoulder.

As I locked the door behind me, knowing that Edward was waiting by my truck in his usual impatient fashion, I frowned to myself. I should have been dancing with joy that he thought I looked pretty, but the way he had said that just wasn't convincing. No, I thought that he meant it from the core of his heart, but I just had this odd suspicion that he had wanted to say something else.

I really hoped that he'd say what he wanted soon.

* * *

The Forks Highschool parking lot was fairly packed, and since it was a minuscule school it had an equally sizable parking space. I was able to find a spot to park my truck in front of the school, though, on the side of the road near a tree. Pumping music was pouring out of the building almost as hard as the rain outside was beating against my car. Edward and I had to make a dash for it so we wouldn't get too wet—I nearly slipped into a puddle, but caught myself before actually doing it. He had to shield me from getting too soaked with one of his wings. We were both able to get into the front doors without anything serious occurring.

The halls were clean, sparse of the students who usually filled them. The only thing that tipped us off that a dance was happening was the music; it sounded like a pretty miserable and cliché selection.

The Halloween dance was in the gym; black and orange streamers were spun around the wooden doors for festive purposes, and the Spanish teacher was asleep in a chair guarding them. I felt almost bad for her, but when I noticed the eight aluminum cans of empty beer by her feet, I felt more like slapping the woman. So much for teacher supervision at all school events.

I took off my coat and put it on top of the growing coat deposit that had been left near the inebriated foreign language instructor. Edward looked confused.

"You need to take your coat off," I explained. "The better to see your costume."

His long, pale fingers unbuttoned his trench coat quickly. Meanwhile, his wings were shaking off the glittering droplets of water onto the floor. They flapped, sending a stray paper in the hall fluttering away in the after-breeze. He took off his coat and threw it onto the pile.

Edward had an emerald green tunic with a black, gold-studded belt on his waist, an old fashioned white puffy sleeved shirt underneath the tunic. Black pants and black leather hunting boots completed the costume, matching the belt. I even caught the glimmer of a gold and black dagger just above one of his shoes. He ran a hand through his bronze hair nervously as I looked him over. His wings drew closer to him, and I could see a pale purple sparkle hovering just near his body as he blushed.

"Do I look okay?" he asked me anxiously.

Smiling, I took him by the arm. We looked so good together, like a lord and lady stepping out of the pages of a Shakespearian play. I, with my blue Belle-esque gown, and he with his forest colored royal outfit, his angel wings the only thing that made him seem out of place. Even without them, he'd seem godly. I smiled, pressing my lips to his warm cheek. "Yes," I told him, watching his eyes sparkle. "You look amazing."

* * *

**(Jacob's POV)**

I was by the punch bowl, leaning nonchalantly against the blood red table cloth. I observed as the mortals swayed to the terrible music. Mike had said that it was a song called "Monster Mash."

What an odd bunch of humans.

There were three freshmen girls huddled together by the tacky, ghost-sprinkled black cupcakes. They were whispering about me, gazing at me with a gooey adoration when they thought I didn't notice. Ew. I sniffed, trying not to let my distaste become too apparent. I had to appear normal in this crowd. But I couldn't help it—I pitied the angel who fell for a human.

Mortal girls were responding terribly to the clothes my charge had picked out for me. He had assured me that they were scary enough to frighten anyone who looked in my direction, but instead of running away in terror, the human women were running towards me in lust. This long black robe allegedly worn by the Grim Reaper was a chick magnet.

Again, ew.

Mike and Jessica were dancing to the music, keeping a look out for them. If they came onto the dance floor, if they came to the dance at all, we'd be ready. I knew that beneath Jessica's risqué pirate wench outfit there was a handgun and that Mike had a switchblade stuffed someplace. If there was a need for a fight, they'd be ready to defend themselves.

Not that I cared, really. All I had to do was watch over as they proceeded to attempt to do the murder. That was my only purpose for coming, not for protecting my charge, Mike.

It was such an odd twist of fate that the demons possessing them wanted to kill off the person my old rival was supposed to be protecting. Edward was such a natural goody-two-shoes that loosing this mortal girl, Bella, would be his greatest downfall yet. Oh well. I yawned. That idiot got on my nerves. It would serve him right to fail. Do him some good.

Eric—who was playing the keyboard in the band, part of the reason they sucked—was suddenly very alert. His eyes were slowly turning red; and it wasn't because of the lighting on the make-shift stage. He must have spotted the targets.

I followed his eyes. They were here. The corners of my mouth turned upwards into the smirk I pulled so well.

Let the games begin, Edward.

_(A/N Sorry for the long wait, everyone. I've been grounded for three months (the grounding is still on, and I'm risking my neck writing on the computer) and as part of the punishment, I can't even wear black. Do you know how much this is pretty much killing me? I try not to dress like everyone else because I don't like being lumped together with people I pretty much detest, and my parents stripped me of the one thing that gave me confidence. Now I look naked without my makeup, I feel ugly without my comfort clothes, and I'm getting more and more violent due to anger issues. It got so bad that I even suggested anger management to my parents. _

_And as if that wasn't bad enough, one of my friends spread a rumor about me. I have to deal with that for the rest of school, along with this ridiculous punishment. She better run fast, because that girl is going to be seriously hurt if I get my hands on her. _

_I cut my hair, too, so now I look like Ashley Greene, the girl who's playing Alice. Did anyone else laugh when they saw the movie trailer on the Twilight Lexicon? I mean, it looked like Edward was raping a deer at one part. XD LMAO_

_Personally, Jake is growing on me. I mean, I still want to knock his teeth out sometimes, but I feel somewhat better about him. I might make a fanfic putting him in better light._

_My Myspace song has changed, so if you want to listen to "The Art of Suicide" by Emilie Autumn, just look it up on LimeWire or another music site. Enjoy, my angels and demons.)_


	19. Even Demons

Edward stiffened by my side when we slipped into the heavily decorated gym. He surveyed the area warily, his jaw hardening with every second. An air of recklessness was rolling off him in waves. Suddenly, he whirled to face me, his eyes pleading with that same tone of hunted desperation. "Bella, you have to promise me something," he said hoarsely. His hands gripped my shoulders tightly.

Surprised by this anxious behavior, I just felt my mouth open a little and not say anything. I realized that was stupid and forced myself to nod instead. "It depends what it is, though," I managed to say.

He looked over his shoulders out at the pulsating mass of bodies nervously. "_Bella_," he hissed. His eyes locked with mine. "_We're not safe here_. There's an ambush waiting for us in this room. I need you to stay by my side throughout the whole thing_. Do you understand?" _He shook my shoulders roughly.

I felt as if the wind had been knocked out of me. "An _ambush_?" I repeated. "You mean that they're all going to be in this room, watching us and waiting for the right moment to . . . . ?" I stopped myself from continuing. The big lump in my throat that I hadn't noticed was even forming had halted my speech capability.

He didn't want to finish it either. His eyes traveled all around the room, scrutinizing everyone with suspicion. His hands weaved themselves behind my back; our chests pressed together. Instead of the romance I should have been basking in, all I felt was being guarded. Instead of pressing his lips against mine, he wanted to press a knife into someone's ribcage.

"Edward?" I asked.

He looked down at me worriedly. "Have you spotted them?"

"No, it isn't that," I said. "I just wanted to tell you that they probably wouldn't attack in a room full of people. They like to pretend they're the innocent ones, remember? Don't you think that by going after us when there are so many witnesses, that they'd be destroying the façade they had created for their group?"

Edward's expression said it all. "Yes," he whispered harshly. "They _would_ attack you! Bella, don't you realize that demons have no regrets or thoughts about what they do to people? Do you honestly think they'd care if people watched them kill you? They'd just possess another person once Mike and the others were arrested. _It would never end._"

Deep down, I knew he was right. And I knew that it would be completely moronic to even consider arguing out my side. He'd just repeat himself all over again until I submitted to his reasoning; which, I knew, I would do within five minutes. Still, there was a part of me that wasn't as deeply hidden as the first part of me. A side that was screaming in indignation that we couldn't at least spend ten minutes at the first school dance I'd ever attended with another person.

I studied him very carefully. He was still looking all around us, pressing us closer to the wall. Through the fabric of his costume I could feel his heart racing. He was really worried about this. About my safety, specifically. It seemed selfish to feel this way, but I really liked getting worried about.

I cast another look around the gym sadly. Everyone was laughing and having a good time. There were vampires, ghosts and pirates running around and dancing, not caring who was who for once and just accepting everyone. No one cast a withering glance towards me for the first time in months. No one whispered right in front of me about how I was scary. This was a perfect night. Well, you know, aside from the fact that a group of humans possessed by demonic creatures were out to kill me.

No. I couldn't stay here, no matter how much I wanted to. Clenching my teeth, I pulled away from him to talk to his face and not his chest. There was a sudden swell in the music, so I had to raise my voice. "Alright, Edward. If it would make you happier, let's leave."

The heavy club beats kept getting louder and louder. Edward looked befuddled. "What did you say?" he shouted over the noise.

A group of people rushed by us. A girl with two blond pigtails and a farmer uniform pushed me roughly aside, away from Edward and his embrace. I was now pressed against the opposite door, trying to see him over the tide of students rampaging by. "I said, 'if it would make you happier, we can leave'!" I yelled.

Edward couldn't hear me. He was searching desperately over the heads of another crowd of people. I saw his mouth call out my name, his green eyes impossibly wide.

"Edward!" I screamed. I fought by a few Jasons who were chatting amiably right in front of me and squirmed my way to his direction. His back was to me. Edward was only about seven feet away.

Suddenly, an impossibly enormous version of Hannah Montana knocked me clear off my feet and onto the floor. I yelped in pain when my keister met the wood, but the music covered it up.

"Sorry about that," the Hannah wannabe apologized, her eyes squinting apologetically. I recognized her as a freshman who sat with the band geeks in my lunch period. I had never talked with her before, but I knew she was a friend of Angela Weber, the quiet girl in my class. Angela had never said anything insulting to me and was generally a nice person, and her friends appeared to be similar.

Smiling, I accepted Hannah's hand when she extended it, stood up and smoothed out my dress. "Thank you. I've seen you around here, but I don't know your name. I'm Bella."

She beamed back. She had purple braces. "No problem. I'm Marla. I'm here with some of my friends. Angela, Ben, Samantha and Angela's boyfriend. He doesn't go to this school, but he's really nice. You should meet him. Who are you with?"

I shot a glance at the place where I had last seen Edward. His messed up bronze hair wasn't where it had been. He was gone, lost in a mass of crushing and grinding bodies. "Er, I'm here with my boyfriend, Edward," I said loudly, attempting to beat the music.

Was boyfriend even the right thing to refer to him as? I mean, he did say that we should use that as a cover-up. But he had also said we couldn't be together like that. I felt a headache begin and stopped thinking. Screw it, I was calling him my boyfriend whether he liked it or not.

"I'm really sorry Marla, but I've got to catch up with him. I lost him in this," I motioned to the dancing people.

She nodded sympathetically. "Go find him, then. I've got to get back to my group. Oh, and by the way. You look great in color for once." She grinned.

"Thanks," I called over my shoulder.

I squeezed by some ghetto mummies and an acne-covered Frankenstein impatiently and got knocked around some more. I accidentally stepped on a foot or two in my pursuit of anyone in a medieval costume and ethereally good looks. No one was even close to Edward's appearance. I found a few noblemen and a king or two, but when I asked them if they had seen a boy in a green Renaissance costume they just shook their heads and offered to replace him as my date.

A little hopelessly, I pressed myself flat against the opposite wall from the doors, surveying the area. Edward wasn't anywhere I could see. It seemed as if he had simply vanished off the face of the premises. He wasn't by the doors where we had been separated, and he wasn't with the group of guys hanging out by the girls' locker room. He wasn't sitting out at my right hand side at some of the tables set out for couples not dancing. He wasn't out on the dance floor swaying with the crowd; and if he was, then he was well disguised from my view. I glanced over to my left hoping to find him by the punch bowl, but I didn't see him at all.

Ugh, this was making me _slightly_ nervous. I played with the cross hanging around my neck absentmindedly, my eyes dragging for something even remotely otherworldly. I couldn't see him, and I couldn't spot any oncoming danger from anyone nearby.

It came to me then that I should probably just wait by the doors or in the hallway until he could crawl out from under the crowd and get to me. It would be much easier to find me, as opposed to both of us searching for another in a crowded, ridiculously noisy room.

I braced my ears for the torture I was about to put them through and plunged back into the sea of crushing bodies. Some remix of Dracula's theme song was playing, and it sounded fairly nice. But it probably would have sounded much better if it hadn't been cranked up to a volume louder then a jet.

More then one person stomped on my shoes, and several more got pushed impatiently to the side as I cut through the crowd. A few people yelled at me when I passed through someone trying to take a picture of their friends, but I ignored them. I had to get to the other side before I bumped into anyone that was waiting to ambush me.

Eric was onstage, playing keyboard. His eyes traveled around the gym, and I suspected it had something to do with more then just nerves. I quickly ducked down low so he couldn't spot me and sped up my pace a fraction.

Narrowing my eyes, I searched for a spiky blond head and curly black hair. They weren't too difficult to find; they were twirling around the dance floor with alarming grace, and other couples and groups stared at them in amazement, agitation or awe.

Jessica was a pirate wench and Mike was—naturally—a devil. Strangely enough, he looked almost good in red leather pants. Almost immediately after thinking that, I felt the bile rise up in my throat.

I found myself against the wall again. There was a thin layer of sweat on my face, either from the heat the people were emanating or from the effort I was making to find Edward.

It would just be easier to wait around for him where I was. Dejectedly, I slid into a seat at the nearest table, resting my eyes for a second. My fingertips massaged my temples gently. I couldn't believe we had gotten separated _already_. That was amazingly quick, even for us.

My spine prickled uncomfortably—someone was staring again. I chose not to care too much about it, since I knew it wasn't Mike, Jessica or Eric. Whoever it was probably just shocked to see me in another color aside from black; not a lot of people were paying attention to me, but from the ones who did, they usually were taken aback. I saw a guy and his friends scrutinize me curiously from the opposite corner. I recognized them from one of my classes; they ignored me daily. We had never really held a discussion before.

That prickling feeling didn't subside. They were behind me, perhaps only several feet away, and they weren't moving anytime soon. A tiny bit annoyed (and curious about their motives for staring at me), I glanced over my shoulder.

There was a guy, around my age, perhaps even older, who's impossibly black eyes were studying me intently. He didn't go to this school; I would have heard about him before hand, or at least seen him already. Possibly from the school on the reservation, though, seeing as he was Native American. He could be considered good looking, but I wasn't interested. Dressed in a black Grim Reaper costume and a short smile, the guy slicked down his angel feathers that traced the floor. They looked like Edward's; just like them, except their shade was a pale brown, like a mourning dove.

He stepped towards me lithely, his movements graceful and odd coming from someone so tall. With the flowing black robe, he looked like a shadow. Or death.

He stopped directly in front of me, looking down at my face. Those eyes of his burned like black flames. "Hello, Bella."

I narrowed my eyes, uneasy. How did he know my name? "Hello. Do I know you?"

His full lips turned upwards slightly. "I don't think so. I just moved here. My name is Jake."

That name rang a bell in my head; I just couldn't place where I had heard it soon enough.

The music swelled again, and Jake looked around the dance floor. He smiled back at me. "Do you want to dance?"

My eyes widened. "What?"

"Do you want to dance with me?"

I felt my face freeze into a semi-hostile expression. "No thanks. I'm waiting for my boyfriend, Edward, to come."

"He isn't here with you?" he asked, interested. A little too interested.

"We got temporarily separated. But we'll meet up soon," I threw in. A gut feeling was telling me not to trust this guy; something about him didn't add up.

"You can just dance with me until he comes then," Jake suggested, his white teeth gleaming in the strobe lights. He extended his hand towards me.

Ignoring it, I just kept glaring at his face. "No, I don't feel like dancing."

"Come on; it's fun."

"No, thank you."

"My date ditched me and I haven't been able to dance with anyone yet. Please?" he insisted.

"Sorry. Go find someone else; I know this girl named Marla, who would—"

"_Come on_." He grabbed my hand with unnaturally strong force and yanked me clear out of my seat. Before I could even protest against being manhandled, he was dragging me onto the dance floor.

Jake enveloped me in his thick arms, pressing me against him. He smelled strongly like musk; the scent was overpowering. Coughing, I tried prying myself away from him—but that just made him grip onto me harder.

"Get off of me!" I hissed. I attempted to dig my heel into foot. It didn't work.

He laughed a little. "Relax. Edward wouldn't mind sharing you for one dance, would he?"

"Yes, he would. And I really don't want to dance with you," I snarled. "Now let me go, or I'll scream!"

He seemed even more amused. "Scream? I don't think anyone would hear you."

"This is a crowded room! Are you sniffing something in your spare time?" I demanded. "Listen, kid, I really don't know who the hell you are. Get the fuck off of me or I'll bite your arm off myself."

"Oh." He scowled at me. "Nasty one, aren't you?"

"I'll be nasty to anyone who touches me when I don't want them to. Now get off of me!" Seeing a window of opportunity, I imitated something I had seen when I was watching a wrestling match on TV. I knocked my forehead as hard as I could against his jaw, the force of my blow making him bounce back. I safely stumbled back a few feet, panting and rubbing my throbbing forehead.

Jake was clutching his mouth, a dribble of blood slipping from between his fingers. Strangely enough, he wasn't too preoccupied with pain as he should have properly been. He was staring at me in complete dumbfounded disbelief, as if shocked that I had actually hurt him.

I glared at him disgustedly. "Touch me one more time and you'll get worse from me in the future." I watched him wiping the blood from his face out of the corner of my eye as I stomped away furiously. That son of a bitch deserved a good pounding.

My body was overcome with an energized feeling of adrenaline from what I had just done that it nearly made me physically ill. My pent up rage had been an excellent fuel for self-defense. I felt proud of myself; with every passing day I was becoming stronger.

A heavy hand came down on my shoulder and spun me around roughly. I knew who it was before I even looked at his face. "Hey!" I shouted.

Jake's nose was back to normal, the blood no longer there. But he looked rather put off about what had happened. Not murderously angry, not completely mellow. More like slightly annoyed with me. "You know," he said, his voice laced with aggravation, "That really wasn't necessary."

"You wouldn't back off from me. Of course it was," I argued. I twisted out of his grip again, but he didn't try to stop me.

Jake sighed. "Look, let's not make this difficult. I don't want drama right now." His hands clasped together in what seemed like a prayer, and he shut his eyes in concentration.

I rolled my eyes. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about, but you're a real creep, you know that? As if by doing that you'll show me you're actually good. Whatever."

His eyes snapped open, and with them, the room froze. People stood perfectly still, caught in the act of dancing, drinking, laughing or whatever they had been doing before this. One guy was suspended in midair in the middle of slipping on punch — coincidently, he was dressed for someone in the Matrix. The music, which had been on an obnoxiously loud level just seconds before, was no longer on. The band was a bunch of mannequins, forever imposed in the art of making music.

It was just me and Jacob in a normal state. In shock, I stumbled farther away from him and bumped into living statues behind me. "What the _hell_ did you just do to them?!" I demanded.

He looked around at the room mildly. "I didn't do anything to them. I just made us incredibly fast. No one will be able to see or hear us." His eyes rested on mine. "We can finally have a talk."

I shook my head. "No way do I wanna talk to you. Just what are you, anyway? A demon?"

He stiffened, positively insulted. "I am_ not_ a demon. I am someone who brings justice. I'm someone who guides others. I am a _guidance angel_."

"A . . . guidance angel?"

"Yes, a guidance—"

I widened my stance and tensed my body. "You're a Morte, aren't you? Tell me, who's the one who wants to murder? Who's your human?"

He smiled at my reaction. "I see." Glancing down, he waved his hand gently through the air, a shower of red sparks materializing after it. He sat down comfortably in his brand new plush chair. "Please, sit." He gestured to the chair in front of him, which had come along with the chair he now sat upon.

"No way."

Jake crossed his legs. "Listen, no matter what you heard about Morte angels from Edward, it can't all be true. After all, I had plenty of times to kill you so far, but I didn't, did I?"

I watched him as he created a delicate looking teacup out of thin air. He tapped it lightly with his index finger, and steam appeared from the brim of the cup. He sipped the tea slowly.

"I guess you're telling the truth. You could have killed me anytime tonight if you wanted." Reluctantly, I perched on the purple plush of the arm chair. "But I still don't trust you," I threw in.

He created a small oak coffee table as I talked, and rested his tea on it. A black tea kettle and a cup in the shape of a flower appeared before me. After tapping the cup with his finger again, he handed me a cup of steaming tea.

"It's wildflower tea," he said lightly. "Kind of different from what mortals generally like and are used to, but I like the flavor."

Without drinking it, I set it on the table again. It felt weird that we were suddenly having a tea party in the midst of a crowded room full of unmoving people who couldn't see us. It was doubly weird that the tea party I was having was with someone who Edward told me was bad news.

Jacob settled back in his chair and smiled at me. "Alright. I can tell you don't like me very much. Which is pretty understandably, considering the fact I grabbed you against your will."

I grunted in agreement.

"But I did so with the hopes that I could talk with you. You see, I like knowing the people whom my human targets. It's odd, because I don't feel real . . . _affection_ towards them. More like I'd like to know who's going to die because of some amount of guilt. After all, I'm the one who has to guide them to do this."

"You don't have to guide them to murder," I said grumpily. "I don't understand why I have to be the one who's targeted, either."

Jacob looked unhappy. "Yes, I do," he said quietly. He took another sip of tea.

"No you don't. Murder isn't the only path they could choose to be on."

"I really can't." He looked at a nearby person absentmindedly.

He was starting to piss me off again. "You can direct anyone to do anything, can't you? I understand it's your job, but don't you have human emotions stuffed away someplace?" I demanded.

He glared at me, the ambience and peace of the tea wearing off on him. "Don't you dare say that to me," he hissed. "Of course I do! But I just want to go onto the other world already. I interfered with my charges before. That's why I'm still here."

I paused. He had done that before? Saved someone's life? And he still wasn't in heaven? "But you should have moved on now. You should be in heaven, shouldn't you? You helped someone about to get killed."

Jacob gave a bitter laugh. "So Edward didn't tell you, did he?"

Surprised by that approach, I gave him a confused look. "What didn't he tell me?"

"That the entire Christian and Catholic religion is a hypocritical load of tripe, deigned for those who fear death and to give others reasoning for what they do. Something they don't like? They say you can go to hell for it, and they instantly stop it. Meanwhile, while they teach children the majesty and wonder of believing in someone who starves other children of different races around the world who don't believe in him, they take people from peaceful, accepting religions and burn them at the stake if they refuse to believe in God. They say murder is wrong, but they will jump at the chance to take the lives of those who don't believe or believe differently. They cast out members of their family who are homosexual, of a different religion or into different things just because they aren't like them. And they _still_ insist on calling themselves a religion of love an acceptance? _Bullshit._" Jacob leaned in, his eyes narrowing. "I know I'm going to hell, simply because God doesn't want Morte angels mucking up his "utopia" of hypocrites and murderers in the sky. I know I'm going to hell for defying him to save lives. And why? Because God's a little bitch who hates to lose, that's why."

And it all made sense. Everything he was telling me, it all made sense. He was completely right. Defeated, I sank into the chair. "I never thought of it that way," I admitted.

"You know, the Bible is a load of lies, too, right?" Jacob was more animated, presumably due to rage. He drank his tea quickly.

Relaxing, I sipped the tea he had given me. It tasted spicy. "Yes, I know. Those who are gay or of a different religion are sinners and need to be punished, according to the Bible. And I hate how they say it was created by God when it was, in fact, created by a man who was about as bad as the guys who started Heaven's Gate. He preyed upon the emotions and fears of other humans to get what he wanted. And it maddens me that the religion exists to this day."

Jacob nodded in agreement. "Absolutely. You know, Catholicism is the only religion that says if you don't believe, you got to hell?"

"Yes, I did know that. And I once heard a Born Again Christian say that Hitler was going to be heaven for exterminating prostitutes, gays and gypsies, while Aesop was going to hell because he told a different story for creation." I rolled my eyes and drank a little more. This tea was good.

Jake laughed. "I never heard that one before, but with God, who knows? After all, he was the real maker of sin. He didn't have to place a tree in the Garden of Eden. If he's all knowing, wouldn't he have known that Lucifer was going to "betray him" when he stood up against God's playing around with humans like toys?" Suddenly Jacob snapped his fingers, remembering something. "Were you aware that Satan and Lucifer aren't the same person?"

"What?!" I exclaimed.

"It's true. After God threw a bitch fit that Lucifer had stood up to him and defended humans because he has sympathy for them, he threw Lucifer into the middle of the Earth along with his friends. To make sure he didn't escape, God sent an angel named Satan to monitor Lucifer. Satan loved God a lot, so he looked after Lucifer for a few millennia. He found out later that God had forgotten all about him. God didn't love Satan at all, and the other angels spit on him. Don't you think that's a little tragic? Two kind people were sent to hell when they didn't deserve it, all because God needs to take a chill pill once and a while."

"I never thought I'd say it, but poor Satan." I winced. "And poor Lucifer. I mean, all this time I thought that Satan wanted to kill me. Mike is possessed by a demon, and he's constantly trying to off me off. And Lauren told me that she would kill me to get my soul to Satan . . . I don't know what to do anymore." I drank the rest of my tea, pondering.

Jake looked confused. "She said he wanted your soul? I mean, Mike's my human and I know he wants to kill you, but I know that Satan isn't the kind of guy who would do that. He's still a supporter of God, no matter what shit has been thrown at him. And Lucifer doesn't really care that much. He just makes sure that everything is going on okay in Hell. They're both pretty decent guys."

"That's what's confusing me." I bit my lip.

Jacob looked at me as if deciding something. "Listen. No matter what Edward told you, he doesn't know the full story. I know you care for him, but he's a little stupid when it comes to accepting new ideas. If you do die by my human's hands, and if Satan or Lucifer genuinely wants your soul, you should know that Hell isn't as bad as everyone says it is. It's full of people who made God angry, but most of them are the best people around. Even demons have a little good in them."

"Thanks; I'll try to remember that as Mike attacks me," I said sarcastically.

He smiled. "You seem like a kind person, and I don't want you to die so soon. So I'll let you go and collect Edward right now, while under super speed, so they can't get to you. If you tell him it was I who let you do this, he'll never believe you, though. Understand?"

"Will I talk to you again?" I asked.

"Maybe. We have school together, don't we?"

"Yeah, there's always that. Thanks for this."

"No problem." Jake's hands shot red light above us and the air current picked up. Like a waterfall rushing down a cliff, the noise and the motion suddenly came again. The guy suspended in midair came tumbling over while his friends laughed, some people continued to shake their bodies from where they left off, and the band was as horrible as ever.

I looked back to Jacob, but he was already gone.

"Bella!" I heard someone shout behind me. Whirling around, I saw Marla waving me over. Her group of friends were off to the side a little.

"Hey, Marla," I greeted, walking over.

"I found Edward for you," she said brightly. "Since we found him, all he's been doing was hanging out with Angela." She gestured to an auburn haired boy's back, the green tunic he was wearing blending in with the other's costumes. He was speaking with a long haired red headed woman, who was wrapped in the arms of Angela.

I rushed over to him and threw my arms around his shoulder. "Edward! I thought I'd lost you! Where had you been all this time?"

Edward didn't answer. His eyes were on the red headed woman.

"Edward?" I shook him a little.

"Awh, he's shy," the woman laughed. She unwrapped her arms from Angela's waist. She had a lavender tunic with a white ruffle shirt, dark purple pants and long knee high white boots. She extended a well manicured hand to me. No nail polish though. And she was awfully flat chested. And there was something about her that made me think she was familiar . . . .

"Hi, Bella. My name is Louis. I'm Edward's brother."

The night was just getting weirder and weirder, wasn't it?

_

* * *

_

(A/N Wow, that was great fun writing the ending to this chapter. Sorry for the wait everyone. But you have to understand that I have a life, alright? I'm not constantly on the computer updating this story everyday. I've got friends, I've got a job. I've just got a life. So please stop getting huffy when I don't update right away.

_I'm rather annoyed with the amounts of reviews that are only about my author notes. THE FUCK, PEOPLE?! What about the story? REVIEW THE FUCKING STORY, NOT THE FUCKING AUTHOR NOTES. If you want to comment on what I said, INCLUDE it in the review for the chapter. But don't make it a whole discussion about the author note. _

_Another thing that annoyed me: too many "Good job, update soon"-esque reviews. The only one that competes with the aggravating abilities of those reviews are the ones like "omc tht wuz awsme an god i luv tis updte son lolz" Please don't force me to speak your language with a reply to that saying "SPEK EGLISH DOOD."_

_Honestly, I only ask for intelligent reviews from intelligent reviewers. AND IT'S "OMG" DAMMIT! NOT "OMC"! Yeah, Twilight's a good book, but it's people that speak like that and overly obsess that make the Anti-Twilighters call us "Twatlighters." Thanks a bundle, you idiots. _

_-Sigh- I am pissed. But over the really dumb reviews, nothing else. _

_I'm over my punishment. I starred in Midsummer's Night Dream as Helena. Getting into a cat fight with Hermia was the best. heh _

_Jake is not going to be a romantic interest, so don't get your hopes up.)_


	20. YOU GOT PUNK'D! AN AUTHOR'S NOTE

(A/N First off, I'd love to explain something

_(A/N First off, I'd love to explain something! :D That last author's note in the lastest chapter? COMPLETE JOKE. heh The theme of the day was to ignite some rage and passion from reviewers! And boy did you really flame me with personal messages! :D Do you honestly think I'd rant on like that? Nah, I just love messing with you. However leNegrita has won the award for the first person to get angry about the chapter! As formentioned, you will receive a prize for this at the end of the book._

_Many people have been under the impression that I bashed the Christian religion throughout the last chapter. Of course I did. Jacob was ranting on about his own beliefs and the Bella was just a little gullible and had the seed of doubt planted in her. While I inserted my own research into the subject, and while I agree with Jacob about some of the things being said, don't think that I don't know the Catholic side of the argument. Don't you think Edward will argue his case later? Coming from me, you should probably expect it._

_Louis, in the last chapter, seemed like a woman partly because he's too cute for his own good. You'll see why later on. _

_Heh—most readers (as I expected) were very angry to see the bludgeoning of the Bible before their eyes via Jacob. XD Here's a bat—go at him. Stereotyping is in this chapter (as is stereotyping of all kind) and in this book. EVERYONE gets stereotyped only to finally realize "Wait a second! We aren't like that!" And voila, the sun shines. Preps, Goths, Christians, Satanists, EVERYONE. I find it hilariously fun to do that._

_Plot twists! Yes, plot twists are to be expected from me! My plot twists are meant to be dealt out one after another in a dizzying fashion. So much so it would make your head spin. But this story is pretty much planned out, so I know what I'm doing. I wrote the whole storyline on two pieces of paper in one day. I know how it ends, although if you've seen movies dealing with a subject close to this . . . you might guess the ending. It's kinda sad though. _

_-Sigh- and as sad as it is, YES, people are calling us "Twatlighters." I myself was called that while on DeviantArt, after defending Twilight. They said we were illiterate fools, and when they gave me proof of chat speak "OH NOES YU DINT" 'clever' comebacks used by previous fans, I thought "Gee, why even chat speak at all if it makes us look like idiots? It's poor misrepresentation Twilight, isn't it?"_

_Any questions, comments and concerns, don't hesitate to PM me. Just be aware that more bumps and twists in the road are before us.)_


	21. Too Much to Handle

The cute girl shook my hand rigorously, smiling. My arm was getting jerked around by someone even more petite then myself. It reminded me of when I had first met Alice. It didn't seem natural.

I pulled my hand away from her grasp. "_Louis?" _I repeated. A boy's name?

Suddenly, the girl got knocked out of the way. Angela had pulled her off of me. She sighed, holding onto the girl's shoulders. "Hey, Bella. Sorry about this," she shook the girl roughly, "happening to you. That's Louis, my 'brother.' He's an exchange student here for a little while." She glared at the girl. "He's got a lot to learn about America, as you can tell. Like personal space."

I did a double take. "You're a_ guy_?" I demanded. I found myself pointing at him and his unnatural beauty incriminatingly.

He pushed his long, silky red hair over his shoulder. "_Oui._ _Pourquoi_? Zit is _évident,_ no (1)? » He pouted.

«Uh . . . not really. » I grimaced. That was more insulting then I had intended. I had said it without even considering the consequences. "You're just really beautiful, is all. That's why I thought you were a woman," I told him.

Louis shrugged nonchalantly, the material of his purple tunic not even marred by the movement. "I can not say I am surprised. Most Américain people zink zat."

"Er . . . can I ask why you said you were Edward's brother, if you're really an exchange student?"

He glanced over at Edward, who still looked shaken up by this chance meeting. "Oh, him? He just came over here and mistook me for his own_ frère. _So after a while of listening to him talking about _toi_, Bella, I just decided to mess around _un peu_. _Pardon! (2)_" He laughed, placing his dainty hands on his hips.

I looked at Edward. He was blushing a little, embarrassed to have been strung along and to have mistaken someone for his actual brother. Of course, the coincidences were fairly scary: a guy who looks like Edward's dead brother and has the same name as him? And can speak French? No wonder Edward thought it was him.

"You probably shouldn't do that anymore, Louis," I suggested. "You might prank the wrong American and end up a little . . . well . . . less pretty then you are now."

His eyelashes fluttered in disbelief. "Impossible! Who would dare to do such a zing?"

"Lot's of people."

"Well!" he huffed.

"Okay, Louis?" Angela cut in. "Try to get some American punch from the magical American punch bowl. A new experience for you."

He glanced at the table and smiled widely at her. "A good idea, indeed." Louis turned towards us again. "_Excuse moi_," he said lightly, moving out of the group with a flip of his long auburn lochs. A floral scent from his shampoo was left behind, lingering in the air.

"Thank god we ditched the Frenchie," Angela sighed in relief, rolling her eyes.

I frowned. "That was rude of you to say. He didn't seem all that bad."

She shot me a dark look. "You don't have to share a house with him. I've had to live with that guy for almost a month now. This is his first time in the school building, and he needs to decide if he's really interested in attending the same school as me. _Please say no_," she pleaded to the ceiling.

"What does he do to seem annoying?"

She paused for a half-second. "He has this annoyingly chipper atmosphere; he's ridiculously beautiful; my brother swears that it seems as if Louis is hitting on him; it's hard to understand him speaking sometimes; and there was this one time I caught him wearing one of my shirts."

I shrugged. "Well that isn't so bad."

Angela grimaced. "It was a purple belly shirt, Bella. A PURPLE BELLY SHIRT. Tell me that's natural for a normal teenaged guy to wear."

Marla, who had been off to the side and quiet for a while, decided to join in the conversation. "Alright. So your boyfriend's gay; so what?"

"He isn't my friggin' boyfriend, Marla. I keep on telling you that."

Marla laughed. "But it's so cute to see your reaction. For a gay guy, he has a great body. I'd love to cuddle him at the very least."

Edward looked distinctly uncomfortable with the conversation. "Er . . . listen, I'm sorry for coming over and mistaking him for my . . . brother . . . ."

Angela waved the apology aside. "Are you kidding me? No offense taken; I'm just surprised that you're brother looks like _him_." She jerked her thumb over to the punch bowl area, where Louis was chatting rather amiably with a very well-built guy. Apparently the guy wasn't aware that he was flirting with another man.

Something red caught my eye. I glanced at the corner, where Jake gave me a warning look. He glanced over to someplace a little to the side of me and back again. He was warning me about something.

I followed his gaze to see what he was trying to tell me, suddenly feeling as if I should have just dragged Edward out when I had the chance. I saw Mike and Jessica, both of whom were staring at me with an undisguised mixture of loathing and longing, swinging themselves ever so close to where I was.

I grabbed Edward by his tunic and yanked him roughly. He yelped, taken completely by surprise at my sudden spurt of impatience. "What's going on?" he demanded.

"We have to get out of here," I said urgently. I nodded my head to the dancing couple of evildoers behind us so Edward would get the point.

"Oh," he said. It seemed he had pretty much forgotten about it all. He pulled himself together and grasped my hand, pivoting on his heel towards the doors. Marla and Angela looked at us, taken aback by our abrupt departure. I was going to have to apologize later.

This time, when we squeezed past people, we weren't pushed apart. Edward had a firm grip on me, apparently set against letting go again. My only complaint was that it was hurting my hand.

The hallway was as deserted as we had last seen it. Nothing of notable status inhabiting it at all. It seemed to be a rather let down after the anticipation that something bad would happen, but then again anything could happen later on tonight.

It was still raining like mad, and we had to run across the parking lot again to make it to the truck without getting our costumes too wet. I fumbled with the car keys and slipped into the driver's seat as quickly as I could, making sure that the hem of my dress wasn't caught in the door as I slammed it. Edward, of course, was already in the car and waiting.

He looked out the back windshield as I drove back to the house. Probably to look out for those humans who were possessed. His mouth was a tight line.

"Edward."

He gave me a look and returned to his job as look out. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry I'm such trouble for you." I kept my face perfectly composed and blank as I pulled out of one rode and into the next. Only my hands seemed to convey any emotion—they were pressing against the wheel so tightly that my knuckles were white. I think I was holding it that way because I was afraid to lose control if we were swooped down upon.

Edward turned back to sit more comfortably in his seat and suddenly looked tired beyond his years. "Bella," he said levelly, "You aren't any trouble. I've never thought of you as trouble. All I think is that a lot is happening to a seventeen year old girl when it really shouldn't be. I don't think it's fair to you as a human, who should be living her life out as peacefully and happily as she can before finally dying. Demons are not what the average human has to face."

"I'm not the average human," I said, a smirk playing on my lips.

"Yeah," he agreed blandly, "You certainly aren't."

My smirk melted into a scowl. "It's a real talent to be such a downer, isn't it? Must have taken you years to prefect."

Edward shrugged, either because he was indifferent to the jab I threw at him, or because he didn't catch on too fast to the fact that I had just insulted him. He sighed a little more into his seat and rubbed his temples. "But geez . . . Bella . . . I can't believe this is actually happening so quickly. It's near to impossible to protect you anymore. We keep getting separated, and something always goes awry when that happens. And my powers are steadily going away with more time I spend on Earth." He looked out at the rain pelting the window. A thoughtful silence had befallen him.

"I think you need to get out of here, Bella. Forks is no longer a place where you can be safe."

**(A/N No doubt I'll probably be flogged for handing over a half-assed chapter, but I have my reasons: one of which is that my creative muse is on hiatus and I haven't been able to fully create something with as much passion as I used to. So I did a sentence or so each day, trying to keep up with demands and force my creativity to come. Didn't quite work, so I decided handing in a short chapter was better then not handing in anything at all. XD Apparently a lot of people have been worried I would no longer continue writing. Not the case in the slightest. Again, my muse is on vacation. **

**Somehow I knew Jacob's Bible Bashing Spree would come back to bite my arse. I've been getting a shitload of borderline harassment personal messages, saying I would burn in hell for my slander campaign against the one and only God. One of them went a bit too far and I ended up having them dispatched with a rather nasty virus sent as a lovely card via my beautiful hacker friend. I feel a touch guilty for that, but when you threaten to come after my family with a bunch of your 'friends' and kill them all, that's when I get pissed. **

**For those who are not as apt to French as French students, the translations to Louis' speech are right here:**

1) "**Yes. Why? It's obvious, no?"**

2) "**Oh, him? He just came over here and mistook me for his own brother. So after a while of listening to him talking about****you, Bella, I just decided to mess around a little. Sorry!"**

**And the rest are rather obvious. :) I'm sure you can decipher 'excuse me', right?**

**Side note: YES, I changed my user name at last! I've loathed Raven for a while now, so why go around saying I'm a fan of her? After writing through Alexander's perspective, I find her to be the epitome of what a bitch is. I have much proof, so care to argue your point, I'll argue mine.**

**I'll update as soon as I can find my creative muse again.)**


End file.
